APOKOLIPS

The Palace of Woe…

Hank Henshaw watched silently and curiously as the old man- Izaya the Highfather opened the glass case; the coffin that held the beautiful, dark-haired girl.  He had named her Beautiful Dreamer, and indeed, Henshaw could understand why.  She looked like Sleeping Beauty certainly, lying there motionless and apparently asleep.  Her skin was pale and smooth, not a touch of make-up to enhance her natural beauty.  She was barely clad in a tan-colored dress that left little to the imagination, though for some reason seemed perfect on her form though too it was little more than rags.  She seemed both frail and delicate, helpless there, barely breathing, barely alive according to his most resolute sensors.  Had he been a hero, Henshaw might actually have considered trying to rescue her somehow.

The old man seemed unconcerned with her state of being however, wearing a slight, contented grin as he opened the glass enclosure that covered her sleeping body.  He looked almost infatuated himself, though he was at least in appearance old enough to be her grandfather, and in actuality- if he was to be believed- her grandfather a thousand generations over.

Henshaw watched as Izaya placed a hand gently to her cheek, his grin broadening into a smile as he sighed with content.  He glanced back to where Hank Henshaw leaned against the cool stone wall.

“She is alive,” the old man said, but of course Henshaw knew that already, and the Highfather had said it before.  Getting senile perhaps?  “She will be fine.  I can sense her returning to us already.”

Henshaw shifted a bit as he recalibrated his sight and hearing to his internal sensors.  As the Cyborg Superman he was ‘gifted’ with a wide array of powers, some that mimicked the actual Man of Steel and others that went far beyond the Kryptonian’s abilities.  He scanned the girl with his special sights and indeed saw her body’s natural functions returning, stepping up as the dreamer awakened from her induced slumber.  He could ‘hear’ her heart beating faster, the blood rushing through her veins as her skin started to deepen in tone.  He saw her eyelids flutter a bit even as her full lips parted to take in a breath of air.

“It will not be long…” Izaya started to state the obvious again, but his voice trailed off as he glanced skyward, staring at, or maybe through the stone ceiling.  Henshaw followed the old man’s gaze, shifting his enhanced senses to peer through the thick stone of the castle above them.  Layer by layer his incredible vision peeled away at the levels of earth and rock, finally casting his gaze into the dead sooty atmosphere and beyond, finally into space.  His good, remaining eye of flesh and blood widened at what he finally focused on, that thing that had caught Highfather’s attention…

“War World,” Henshaw said with a gasp, just a trace of lust and envy in his voice.  His memory was sketchy at best.  Images drifting in and out of his mind sporadically; scenes of the Superman and his own past defeats mainly, and of that ill-fated space mission that had forever changed him and killed his friends.  One thing that he did recall though was the destruction of Coast City and that final battle that had included not only the Earth’s first and dead Green Lantern, but the stellar despot Mongul as well.  It was from that monster he had first learned of the massive construct, an actual planet that was created and devoted to nothing but destruction and war.  It was THE Doomsday Machine, bigger than the Death Star and more powerful than that thing from Star Trek to make the connection.  Henshaw had been a geek, and he would be the first to admit it.  That was the past though.

“You remember then,” Highfather said, still smiling.  “Good.  That will make it all the easier when the time comes.”

“What time?” Henshaw asked suspiciously, turning his attention from the space construct that seemed to be baring down on a course right for Apokolips.  “What are you talking about?  And who’s running War World?  Friends of yours?”

“Hardly,” Izaya chuckled, looking back to the Dreamer as she moaned, stirring.  “Gravyn, I believe.  One of Darkseid’s unacknowledged heirs: third in line I think; though the history is a bit convoluted.  And as to the rest, as I said before we are waiting for the others to arrive.  Those with a portion of the ultimate key to the Dark Lord’s downfall, on their way here.  It shan’t be long now.”

“Who…”

BBBOOOOOOOMMM!

“Gah!” Henshaw shouted as his sensors became overwhelmed by the sudden explosion of light and sound.  He staggered as his internal computers sizzled trying to compensate and adjust to the sudden influx of energies that were assaulting his cybernetic senses.  Even his real eye was momentarily useless with brightly glowing spots drifting through his vision, and his ears ringing with the hollow echo of the loud noise, which had filled the tiny chamber and shook the walls with its intensity.

“Clark…”

It was barely a whisper as his audio receptors clicked and rebooted, coming back online and feeding him the sounds in waves of conflict.  Still, he knew that voice almost as well as his own.  Henshaw turned…


Lois Lane’s eyes filled with tears as she gingerly stepped from the gaping mouth of the Boom Tube to see the back of the man that she loved.  She knew the body, that form anywhere even through the dazzling spots obscuring her vision.  She knew the wave of that black hair, the muscular back showing through the tattered red cape with that all too familiar golden shield emblazoned on the back.  She stepped forward, rushing as her husband started to turn, ignoring the sounds of Jimmy Olsen as he stepped from the Tube just seconds behind her, probably as deaf and sightless as she had been…

“No…”

Lois gasped as the man turned.  She saw the face now, shadowed and scarred with machinery, one huge eye set into the half metallic panel that twisted the otherwise familiar features.  She saw the robotic arm, the cybernetic fist clenching, prepared to defend, or more likely attack.  At once she knew her mistake and stopped short only to have Jimmy stumble blindly into her.

“Lois?  What…”

She heard Jimmy Olsen’s voice catch in his throat as he saw as well, his own sight probably clear enough to see that their believed savior and friend was in reality Hank Henshaw; the Cyborg Superman.  He had tried to usurp her husband’s identity and place years before when the real Superman had been ‘killed’ battling the monster, Doomsday!  He had also been a constant threat ever since, never seeming to end no matter how many times he was beaten.

“That’s not the Superman.”

Lois heard the weak, shocked voice of the third in the little party that she had been traveling with.  She had barely had time to breathe since she had escaped the slaughter of Suicide Slum, transported by the Wizard of all people to safety even as Mitch Shelly- the Resurrection Man and his cabal of rebels were slain by Vandal Savage and his Tartarus group.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, the Wizard had sent her to Skartaris apparently, where another group of rebels were battling creatures straight out of the Evil Factory’s cloning tanks, not the least of which being a huge green giant with Jimmy Olsen’s face.  There she had been taken in by Scott Free- Mister Miracle, and he had used his Mother Box to open a Boom Tube so that she, Jimmy and the New God Serifan might escape.

Now they were here, wherever here was, and Serifan had spoken what she and Jimmy could not, or maybe did not want to.  And he was right of course, obviously.  Lois almost knew the Cyborg’s features as well as her husband’s.

“Henshaw,” she cursed, almost spitting the name like venom.  Oddly, she was not too surprised to see the villain mixed up in the heart of all that was happening.

“Lois Lane,” Henshaw said, his gaze falling on the three of them even as Lois noticed two others behind the Cyborg.  There was an old man with white hair and a kindly face standing beside a beautiful girl that seemed to be just coming awake within a coffin-like casing.  “And young Olsen,” Henshaw continued with a superior grin.  “I should have known you’d both be involved.  And who’re you, Cowboy?”  Henshaw turned his gaze on Serifan dressed in gaudy white pants and a colorfully striped shirt, wearing a wide-brimmed hat banded with tiny capsules that seemed to hold strange gaseous concoctions.

“I’m Serifan,” the young godling said even as he caught sight of the old man.  Lois heard a strange pitch in his voice as he started forward, something that could only be joy.  “Highfather!”

“Welcome, young one,” the old man said with a wide, pleasant smile.  Serifan started to push forward as though ready to embrace the man he called Highfather, but Lois saw Henshaw step up as well, blocking the way.

“Get back,” the Cyborg ordered, planting a hand in Serifan’s chest to stop him cold.  Serifan paused, his eyes wide and moist, a look of confusion washing over his soft face.  Lois saw the Cyborg’s eye glow and sparkle with a wicked scarlet.

“I don’t begin to understand what’s going on, but I do know that if Superman’s Pal and Girlfriend are in the mix, then I have to grab a piece of the action.  Whatever it is, you two are necessary, so I figure if I eliminate you, Darkseid wins, and so do I when I present him with whatever’s left after I kill you.”

Lois raised her arms as Henshaw’s version of Heat Vision flashed, a reddish glare encompassing the tiny room.  Her arm felt warm suddenly, but oddly she did not feel dead.  She opened her eyes and saw that the golden shield, which was still strapped loosely to her arm, had deflected Henshaw’s blast back into the wall that was now melted slag and smoldering.  Back in Suicide Slum she had scooped up the Guardian’s shield, and again its unique composition had saved her life.  She saw Hank Henshaw blink in confusion.

“What the fu…”

Henshaw dropped, first to his knees and then face down on the floor.  Lois stared at his body, unmoving and unconscious before turning her attention to the old man.  He stood there grinning, a shepherd’s crook in his hand, which glowed softly with a queer light.

“I had hoped that he would cooperate.”  The old man sighed, shaking his head as Serifan finally charged forward and embraced the man in a hug, which the elder returned happily.  When they broke the old man glanced from Lois to Jimmy and back again.

“I’m sorry.  I wish there was time for explanations and proper reunions, however things are proceeding apace and we must quickly depart.  This world is soon to become a battlefield, and though others might benefit with our presence, they will have to struggle on their own.  I have faith that they will succeed however, through much strife and wasted life.  Serifan, please, take Dreamer.  We must depart”

“Now wait,” Lois said even as Serifan easily scooped up the semi-conscious girl in his arms.  Highfather ignored her however, holding out his staff and Lois had to squint as it started to glow and sparkle.  She felt Jimmy’s hand on her arm.

“Lois’l… Lois,” he said, his voice quivering.  He was as in the dark and confused as she, his own memories probably churning as they returned.

“There is no time to wait,” Highfather said as he extended the crook to arm’s length and turned it parallel to the floor.  Lois saw it spitting sparks now that swirled in an ever-quickening circle.  There was a rush of air as she saw vague, misty images forming within the circle of light.  “We must go.”

“Where are you taking us?” she asked as the ring suddenly expanded and swept over them all.  She gasped, started to scream but her voice was sucked away with the air in her lungs.  Her senses reeled, exploding with sensation unbound.  She saw the old man’s kindly face, his eyes sparkling with determination, and though she could not hear what he said, she knew, somehow…

“Eternity…”

And the world fell away…

Let my People Go...
Quote From the SOURCE

darkseida

JLU

Dark Genesis


Exodus...

DARK GENESIS #5-

June, Year 4

 by Curt Fernlund

 

Superman


Superman
Darkseid


Darkseid		 Blackfire


Blackfire		 Lois


Lois Lane
 Mon-El


Mon-El
 Kanto


Kanto
Cyborg Superman

Cyborg
Superman
 Supergirl


Supergirl
 Starfire


Starfire		 granny

Granny Goodness
 Kalibak


Kalibak
 Desaad


Desaad


Space

The Point of Origin…

Blackfire laughed as the power coursed through her veins.  She felt so vibrant, so alive as the energy crackled in her blood, boiling forth from her hands in wave after wave of deadly blasts that sent her sister screaming like the piglet she was.  It was beautiful.

Komand’r of Tamaran, the Heir apparent to the Imperial Throne had thought that selling her sister to the Gordanian Slavers, in turn to the dreaded Psions had been bliss.  To see the look of shock and fear on the little Princess’ face, the masque of betrayal that had marred her perfect features as she whined and cried while the hulking, slavering Lizards had locked her in chains had been ecstasy, music to her ears.  To see her beaten, and to hear the agony in her voice as they had dragged her away and out of Komand’r’s life- hopefully forever had been paramount… Glorious!  But this-

Revenge was sweet indeed.

The Dark Lord had given her the power.  His Omega Effect had changed her, altering her very being so that now she might withstand the rigors of space unaided.  The cold and void meant nothing to her.  The fires and radiations of a million stars were as nothing.  Those vast distances that had meant days and weeks lost of her life were now traversed in the blink of an eye.  She was power personified, a dark, crackling flame in the inky blackness of space.  She was Blackfire given life and purpose.

Darkseid had given her purpose.  The Master had charged her to go forth and gather his Servants, once awakened by his First: Zauriel the Fallen.  She had followed the once-Angel’s path, his beacon that seemed to pierce space and time as well as the very fabric of Reality.  That shining silver light had brought her here, to the center of the known universe, her own dark powers bringing her to the Point of Origin within the hollow space of heartbeats, that gasp between breaths.

And what bitter irony and sweet vengeance that Koriand’r should be here, waiting.  Even better that she had been remade, just as had been Komand’r.  The little Princess of Tamaran had power now too.  A pale shadow of course, to Blackfire’s dark majesty, but more than enough to make the girl’s suffering last.

Komand’r watched as her sister flew through the void, her long hair flaming in a trail in her wake.  She was scantily clad still, but her gossamer silks had been replaced by violet armor that did little in the way of protecting her over-endowed form.  She seemed to ignore the cold and vacuum of space as readily as Komand’r and she had a flame within her as well; a Star Fire.  They appeared flip sides of the same coin, darkness to light, but where Blackfire had come alone into the unknown with only the grace of her god, Koriand’r had brought friends.

There were two old men, ancient sages of some sort no doubt.  Both human in appearance, the taller more so with his long and grizzled beard, his receding white hair and withered skin.  The other was short, barely half a man with skin of blue and a balding pate.  Both wore robes of scarlet, and both hovered in the rear letting their ‘warriors’ do their fighting for them.  Warriors…

The old human had brought forth two others who seemed naggingly familiar.  One tall and muscular, almost beautifully exotic had vanished as abruptly in her first assault.  A ghost then, or a false image made from the other to distract.  The second was tall and dark of skin, bald and wearing an armor of black and green.  A verdant flame crackled forth from a trinket ring on his right hand, and that too seemed a distant memory of sorts.  He had power though, a light of green that- at least for the moment- seemed protection against Blackfire’s flames.  Where Starfire attacked with abandon, he lay in wait, guarding the two old men, and another.

That last seemed little more than a sparkling glow there in the void, but Komand’r could sense the sentience within.  Too, it swirled and shifted with the rage of battle, flaring in intensity when Starfire attacked with success and just as likely dimming when she was struck.  There was the source of Koriand’r’s strength then.  There lay the key to victory- when she was finished toying with them all, of course.

“Ahhh!”

Blackfire screamed, cursing for letting her mind wander.  Her damnable sister had gotten past her defenses, a star bolt charring Komand’rs’ ebon armor, energy dancing over the cold metal spikes and plates covering her arms.  Komand’r snarled, hatred creasing her features as she unleashed her own might at her bloated sister, but she was fast and the bolt spiraled away into that darkness that was the Beginning.

“You’re slow, sister!” Koriand’r shouted, mocking, and Komand’r seethed all the more.  Anger boiled in her blood, making her skin crawl as she brought forth the power again.  “Your Dark Lord is as false as you, and has left you wanting.  Surrender and I’ll show you more mercy than you showed me.”

“Surrender?” Komand’r said, her mind racing even as she smiled inwardly, lowering her arms.  She saw Koriand’r hesitate lowering her guard…

“Fool!” Blackfire shouted, rushing forward as her fire poured forth.  She laughed as Koriand’r screamed, the black flames erupting over her golden skin, making her writhe.  “Trusting cow!  Your sentimentality shall be your undoing…”

A blast of green energy enveloped her and blew her back with a solid force that rattled her very bones.  Something slammed across her back, and as her senses reeled she saw a green, glowing truncheon whipping forward again, smashing across her face.  Komand’r rolled with the blow, traveling with the impact until she got her bearings and righted her flight, prepared for another assault that never came.  It had been the dark human of course, jumping to defend her sister.

They hovered there now, together, the black to the fore to take the brunt while Koriand’r recovered.  Komand’r screamed, letting her rage power her own attack, washing both of her enemies in her ebon blaze.  She saw a bubble-like shield appear from the dark’s ring, diverting the fire though the green shimmered and cracked with the ferocity of her attack.  Komand’r raged, easing forward as she poured forth more and more energy, laughing to see the human’s grim façade start to crack and crumble as easily as his shield.

“Your defender is weak, little sister.  His powers wane and when he finally succumbs then you shall surely fall as well.  You, and all of your guardians!  What good are those old men, cow?  Watching you die?  You are a fool to trust in whatever lies that they told you.  They are weak and impotent before the Glory of Darkseid!”

Komand’r saw the little blue man paling under her onslaught as though he were somehow linked to the dark-skinned human.  As Koriand’r was linked to that flickering shimmer of light- whatever that was.  Only the other human, the tall and grizzled man seemed unharmed and unaffected… yet.

Komand’r remedied that situation quickly and easily enough, letting a blaze of dark fire spring forth to envelope the watcher.  She saw him stagger there, floating back in space as the conflagration overwhelmed him.  His eyes went wide for a moment, and oddly it seemed as though he had only just awakened to his plight and the battle again.  He had been aware before, in the beginning for it had been his magic- and Komand’r knew it for what it was- that had called forth the black from hiding to enter the fray.

Now the old man focused his gaze, his steely eyes sparkling in the dark flames that now dwindled about his gaunt form.  He seemed unfazed beyond anger and disappointment, his withered face wrinkling as his lips turned down into a frown.

Shazam!

The word was barely heard, a whisper lost to the crash of thunder that followed.  Komand’r screamed as white light exploded in her face, her hair sizzling with the burn of electrical, magical discharge.  The lightning again.  Komand’r blinked, shaking her head as spots danced and burst through her vision.  She tried to focus on the shadowy form that had reappeared and hovered before her, her hands crackling as she brought her dark flames to bear once more…

“Too late, bitch!”

She barely saw the dark and rugged features of the man dressed in black returned.  She barely recognized the golden bolt of lightning emblazoned on his chest before his fist smashed into her face, the impact of the blow sending her flying back again.  She spun wildly through the frictionless void, nothing there to impede her progress as she rocketed away.  Her mind spun as pain seeped into her being.  She tasted blood, the shattered fragments of tooth swimming in her mouth.  She spat as she struggled to right herself and saw the man careening at her again.


“Huuuhhh…”

Ganthet turned to see the old wizard sag with exhaustion.  He knew the feeling well as he too was nearly burnt.

The Green Flame of Oa was within him since Darkseid’s universal coup.  The Dark Lord had recreated Reality to his image from the very beginning, eliminating those things that did not coincide with his dreams- including of course, Oa.  However, Darkseid was not God.  His paths of his dark thought could not encompass the whole and glory of all Creation.  There were spots, blank areas that he could not eliminate or alter or compensate.  Beings like Ganthet and the old wizard, things like the Rock of Eternity, which existed beyond.  And the Star of Creation of course.  The Yughagi Mancur had imbued the Tamaranian girl with power, even as Shazam had called forth Teth Adam from old.  Ganthet himself had brought John Stewart from misery and into the Green again- that Green Lantern from before second only to Jordan who was still Beyond.  Darkseid had seen to that.

They had gathered here at the Point of Creation where they had hoped their powers would be at peak.  That place in Reality however was null and void, an empty space that sucked away at the fabric of all.  Oa once resided therein, but now it was a bottomless pit in the very soul, the womb of She that was the embodiment, the avatar of the universe; Kismet…

Now there was naught.

“Steady my friend,” Ganthet said, placing his hand on Shazam’s arm.  The old wizard placed his fingers to his brow as he gathered breath, trying to focus.  He looked pale and weak, though probably no worse than Ganthet did in the eyes of the other.

“Forgive me, Guardian,” Shazam said with a huff.  “I am getting far too old for this I fear.”

“As are we both, wizard,” Ganthet agreed, pointing to their warriors locked in battle.  “Thus we create soldiers to carry on our cause.”

A Necessary evil, my friends…

Both men glanced at the embodiment of the Star of Creation, the shimmering light that hovered weakly near by.

But evil none the less.  That we could take direct hand in our cause…

But Darkseid was wise enough to prevent that.  Or his Mistress, perhaps?

“Death is the reason, and perhaps the cure in the end,” Shazam said.  “However, she is unattainable by such as we.  In truth there is only one that might confront that pale maiden from beyond.”

“Bah,” Ganthet spat as the Green swelled about him.  He saw Stewart flare, blasting at Darkseid’s herald to little effect.  “The Endless have abandoned us.  This is all Destiny’s fault.  ‘Twas his twisted machinations that set these wheels in motion when he plucked that first moment from the annals of Time.  His brethren know this and have slunk away into their own nether regions leaving us to correct that madman’s errors.”

“And it was our attempts to correct that, which widened that initial rent.”

All eyes turned to the sound of the new voice.  They knew it of course.  It was the Highfather in their midst, rejoining their circle, and he had not come alone.  There was a glow of protection about his five charges; the love, the hope, the darkness and the innocence and one other not of the key.  Only the strength was missing- the heart.

“Forgive my tardiness, my friends.  Things are far worse than we had deemed.  He has gained the Equation at last, and the universe shudders at his Word.”

“We know, Izaya,” Shazam whispered.  “We all felt the breath of his command, and the universe has fallen in thrall.  Only those of true spirit remain free, those heroes of renown and will, but they are sorely beset.  Skartaris has fallen.  The Resurrection Man has died the final death at last.  My best are beyond my reach and…”

The old wizard clutched at his chest as black flame erupted in the distance.  Black Adam was gone again, and the gathered knew that Shazam could not call him back.  They heard Blackfire’s laughter as she flew on to the slaughter.

“We must proceed,” Izaya said, watching as Ganthet steadied the wizard once again.

But what of the fifth?

Highfather looked to the Yughagi Mancur, watching as the glow sparkled and flickered, paling under the herald’s onslaught on its Avatar, Starfire.  They were all waning in power and hope.

“There is no time.  We must proceed with the merging with what we have.  Serifan will suffice…”

“It will fail…”

Again all turned to look at yet another arrival.  He was gaunt and pale, withered with hollow, sunken cheeks and dark eyes that held little by way of hope or life.  His clothes were tattered already, and decaying even as they looked upon that sorrowful, pitiable countenance.

Pariah had arrived at last…

“There is no hope.  This universe falters, hanging on the brink.  Devastation awaits your best efforts.  The Dark Lord has won.”

“Forgive us if we do not share in your vaunted optimism, doomsayer.  Where there is life and will, there is always hope.”  Izaya stared at the man, the counterpart of Krona from a universe long forgotten, cursed by his own curiosity to travel the multiverse and witness the ending of all forever.  His appearance meant indeed that their cause was lost- if they bowed down to his being.  Izaya was not prepared for that as yet.

“Stand back, cursed one, and witness salvation!”

Highfather raised his crook high overhead and his five charges went rigid, floating into place at his direction.  Lois Lane, the love of the greatest champion.  James Olsen who was the undying hope.  Serifan, innocence and trust personified and Henshaw who was the darkness within.  Finally the Dreamer who might bind them all with her memory.  They were not asleep, but dazed at the manipulation, their minds awhirl in the grand scheme.

“What are you doing?” Lane asked, her voice weak with terror.  Highfather could hear the uncertainty, the trace of fear in her voice.  “What are you doing to us?”

“Sacrifice is needed, Lois Lane,” Izaya answered as his staff glowed again.  The five shifted slightly, theirs arms raising as a Mother Box appeared in their midst, just out of reach.  “Would that there was another way, but we all do what we must.”

“You will fail!” Pariah screamed, his face twisted in agony.

They heard John Stewart’s scream and Ganthet staggered with the sudden loss.  His warrior was gone, a fading green shade on stellar wind.  The Guardian sagged, spent like the old wizard.

“We shall not!” Highfather said, turning his attention to the five.  They all heard the sound of the Mother Box then, the high fast ‘ping’ of frantic disaster coming closer.

Hurry, Izaya…

The Star of Creation flickered, fading as the two Tamaranians came together, locked in combat.  Stellar fire churned as dark flames gushed, the sisters drifting through the void.  Touching at last the silver beacon…

We are undone!

Koriand’r screamed as Komand’r fired her flames into the light.  There was a deadness then, a gasp as all seemed to stop, waiting.  And suddenly the silver turned to dross as shadows streamed forth, flickering through the light.

His call has been answered…

The shimmer faded away as the Star of Creation vanished.  They all saw Koriand’r floating there in the void, her sister not so far away, both spent and lifeless.  Their purpose fulfilled.

“Darkseid calls his Servants home.  The end is upon us at last.  We have failed.”

Highfather stared at Ganthet, scowling at the little man.  “No.”

There was a flash of light as the five touched the Mother Box and vanished, replaced by the one.  He was suddenly there, his bronze skin glistening, resplendent in his armor of obsidian and azure.  He glanced about, momentarily confused, his dark gaze falling upon Izaya.

“I know you, but,” he started, staring at his hands, “I am different.”

“Barely so,” Izaya proclaimed.  “You are needed none the less, old friend.  The Source needs your power and direction.  You must hurry to Earth and confront your true nemesis before…”

The Infinity Man held up a hand to stay Izaya’s prattling.  Glancing skyward above and beyond he seemed lost for just a moment.

“No,” he said with assurity.  “My destiny lies elsewhere.”

“Untrue!” Izaya said, a look of fear finally creasing his face.  “We have brought you forth to confront Darkseid!  He is the true enemy!  What can your destiny be other than that?”

“Confront Darkseid I shall, despite your swaggering.  I answer to a higher calling than you, New God.  The SOURCE is my beacon, and SHE is my guiding light.  Now stand clear lest you become swept up in HER divine glory!”

“No!” Izaya shouted as the Infinity Man faded away, stretching into endless light and finally vanishing.

“Noooooo!!!”

Pariah screamed and faded away just as completely, his voice echoing in the void…

Izaya turned to Ganthet and Shazam.  They were all that remained, as it was in the beginning.  Perhaps if Zeus had been in their rank and file, but no.  The Realm of the Gods had been separated far and away.  Darkseid had seen to that as well.

“We HAVE failed,” Izaya said weakly, looking down in defeat.  “Forgive me my friends.  I have brought about our demise.  I thought that the Infinity Man would bind those wounds.  He was our last hope.”

Shazam laughed…

“No…” he whispered, his voice ragged.

“There is another…”

Smallville City Limits

West of Eden
Just short of Perdition’s Flame…

Death sighed, shoving her slim, pale hands deeply into the faded pockets of her black jeans.  She shook her head as she glanced down, kicking a stone and watching as it spiraled away into oblivion.

“Idiots…”

“Pardon?”

Death looked back over her shoulder and saw Kal-El looking at her curiously.  She ‘saw’ his visions shift again, flying through the spectrums, which he was allowed and trying to fathom her again.  She let him, with a shrug as she took a final glance beyond before turning fully to the young man.  He was good- probably the best, but he was not made of the stuff needed to pierce THAT particular veil.

Not yet anyway…

“Nothing, Kal,” she said as she strolled closer to the Teen of Steel.  He had been watching the activity beyond the edge of the particular creation that they were standing on.  It was like an island, lost in a sea of storms.  The storm in question was the Red Storms of the Crisis, which had been placed in check, but still raged just beyond the borders.  They always would of course.  That was part of the balance, just like the Spark and Expansion, the Time Stream and the Speed Force.  Everything had its place and purpose.  All was necessary, strife or succor, Chaos and Order, dark and light.  Life, Death and taxes…

“Some friends jumped the gun a bit.  Antsy, I guess, or maybe they’re getting senile.” She shrugged again.  “Still, what goes around comes around.  Maybe it’ll all work out in the end.”

“You don’t know?” the teen asked and she smiled.  He DID look magnificent in his blues, that red cape crackling in the breeze.  “You sounded before like one of those folk that knew everything.”

“Moi?” she laughed, placing a hand to her breast as she smiled widely.  “Hardly.  Granted I know a lot- I know more now than I did a moment ago, but there’s only one that knows all.”

“Darkseid?”

“No,” she said with a smirk.  “He knows less than most actually, which is why the universe is crumbling.  No, I meant the Creator.  God to you.”

The teen frowned as he stared at the girl, his brow wrinkling in confusion.  She chuckled as he raked a hand back through his hair, that little corkscrew curl bobbing into place over his eyes.  He WAS cute at this age.  So naïve and trusting yet; unjaded.  Pity it would be over soon.

Death ‘heard’ the telltale sign then, that all too recognizable ‘whoosh’ of air.  Even in space they kicked up a breeze.  She looked skyward, her dark eyes scanning until she finally saw the twin streaks of violet racing through the heavens, coming closer.  Good.  She glanced back at Superboy and saw that he was looking at her again, this time with concern.  She gave him a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, Clark.”

The teen blinked, cocking his head a bit as he considered her.  “Sorry?”

“Your time is coming.  We need to get back.”  Death stepped away from the edge, beginning the long trek back towards the city.  Not their final destination, but that special spot a few miles out.  They had time though, and her stride was easy.  He needed time to take it all in again, for the last time.

“Back?” he asked, picking up his pace to fall in beside her again.  “Back where?  Home?”

“In a way.  Back to where it all began,” she said, glancing up at him to see if he understood.  He had remembered before, everything, but the pieces were still falling back into place.  “For you anyway.”

They walked on in silence for a bit, the devastated land unchanging for the most part.  The red glare behind softened as they walked on, though it never faded completely.  There was another glow beyond the horizon before them though; soft and golden.

“You called me Clark.”

“That’s right.”

“But you were calling me Kal before.  My real name; Kal-El.”

“I know,” she said, stopping for a moment, taking his hand.  He stared down, his hand closing lightly about hers and she smiled.

“No fear.  Not much anyway.  That’s good.”  She squeezed his hand.  “I’m not perfect, Clark.  No one is.  I was wrong.  You ARE Kal-El, but more than that you are Clark Kent.  You HAVE to remember that, if nothing else.  That’s important, I think.”

Clark nodded.  “It is, and despite all you’ve said, I’ve never forgotten.  Ma and Pa taught me that; ‘Be true to yourself’.  They were my parents.  Jor-El and Lara may have given me life, but Jonathan and Martha Kent taught me how to live.  I’ll never forget that.”

Death nodded, actually wiping at her eye.  Dust probably.

“Walk with me, Clark.”

He smiled and she had to look away.

Dust…

THMYSCIRA

The Grand Plaza…

Archon Phillipus stood tall and stretched, arching her back and wincing only slightly to hear and feel the joints popping up and down her spine.  She was aching now, with the rush of adrenaline gone, the thrill of the battle forgotten; her body was feeling the burn.  She needed sleep, just a bit, a short nap, but there was no time yet.  The Great Lord needed her still.

She planted her staff to the stone and rested on the haft as she scanned the vast expanse of the Grand Plaza.  There was yet much activity about, but when the Para Demons were on the island, there was always a buzz.  The vile creatures never seemed to sleep or even tire, and they were always on the move, zipping through the sky on whatever mysterious mission that they were about.  Not her concern of course, but she always found their presence annoying.

Now they were in the process of clearing the bodies away from the slaughter.  The pristine blue sky was a swarm with their bloated, squat forms carrying off the carcasses of the dead for whatever dread purpose they were ordered.  Phillipus knew that there were fires set on the far side of the island where most of the entourage was being deposited.  She could smell the stench when the wind shifted, and the rising columns of thick, black smoke were starting to clot the western sky.

There were dozens for those foul pyres she knew, if not hundreds.  Each of the Council Members; those of the Twelve of the Intergalactic Council had brought retainers and aides at least; scribes, recorders, maids and servants, lackeys of every conceivable size, shape and hue.  They would be burning for some time.  Those bodies at least that the Para Demons did not favor with a more grisly consumption.

It was only the Councilors themselves that were set aside for special treatment.  Desaad wanted them, aliens to play with for the greater glory.  Dark Lord knows just what strange and murderous monstrosities he might create from that bizarre mix.  The venom of the member of the Spider Guild alone…

The Archon sighed as she gazed upon the scene of carnage.  The slaughter had been swift as it had been brutal.  The grand buildings and temples, the once white granite of the plaza was still awash with blood.  Trees from the gardens had been torn and uprooted in the melee, and there were charred, smoking marks everywhere from blaster fire and shock rod.  Not her concern of course; the lowlies would handle the cleaning or forfeit their lives in the process, but for some odd reason it seemed to make Phillipus almost sad to see the Capitol so marred by war.  She had been to Old Apokolips, and Desaad’s lair on the Moon.  She had seen the squalid conditions of N Block, the Fire Pits of the Great Plains, Suicide Slum and what was mockingly referred to as The Metropolis and none of that had made her bat an eye.  The lowlies got as they deserved, for the Glory of Darkseid.  But this was home, and she had always felt a fondness for the beauty of Thymscira, and it hurt to see it torn asunder so.

“You seem deep in thought, Captain.”

Archon Phillipus let a gasp escape her lips, her eyes widening as she spun and dropped to one knee and setting her staff to the stone before her, expecting a swift death.  She hung her head, exposing her neck for that final embrace.

“Forgive me, Lord Kanto,” she groveled, staring at the ground.  “I pray make my end, and take my life for my lapse in attention.”

“Please…” she heard the Elite chuckle, felt a slight tap on her shoulder and knew that he had hit her hard enough to be felt through her armor.  “Rise, Archon, and bask in the Glory.  You deserve a bit of mental wandering at least, if sleep is yet in your future.”

Phillipus looked up and saw her lord and mentor, the great Assassin of Darkseid standing proudly before her, smiling as he held out a hand to help her to her feet.  His fingers flexed, sheathed in the ‘Fist of Ra’, a glove of leather and metal and mocking the claw of a hawk.  A trophy taken of the fallen Thanagarian warmonger.

The Archon stood beside the man that had made her, as well as all of the Amazon Guardians; training them all when Darkseid had conquered the Island of Thymscira eons before.  The Dark Lord had rolled his armies over the land, recreating paradise in his own image and ideals, and the peaceful people that he had found there had been molded by his greatest killer into the force that now stood as HIS personal guard.  They had become a great beast, a savage, fighting swarm and at their head stood Archon Phillipus; the best of the best.  She smiled at Kanto’s appraising scrutiny, feeling a rush of warmth through her entire body.

“You have done well today, my child,” he said, his fingers drawing and closing in a fist and back within the glove.  It seemed out of place alongside his fine raiment of almost gaudy lavender and ochre.  Phillipus knew though that the outer trappings hid the true man within.  The pompous dandy was mostly an act, just a bit of truth in his pride.  Kanto was ice to the bone underneath.

“I have only done as commanded, milord.  My sisters and I, as always, live for the word and very breath of the Master.”  Phillipus bowed her head humbly, hearing Kanto’s barely contained snort of humor.

“Walk with me child.”

Phillipus fell into step just slightly behind Kanto’s right as he strolled through the carnage of the Grand Plaza.  There was a continual buzz overhead as the Para Demons flew off with the dead and dying alike, while the ground itself was yet active as Darkseid’s warriors and Dog Soldiers roamed the field of battle for survivors.  There were few to none that the Archon might perceive; a handful of the Rannian Warlord’s abandoned harem, a slave from the Guildmaster’s retainers, and of course the still-standing form of the Coluan Tyrant.  The Ambassador of Colu abandoned his mobile form when the slaughter had began, quickly riding through the ether back to his core light years distant on his mechanized home world of Colu.  Another of Darkseid’s special Elite quickly incorporated the empty shell that remained, and as they approached, Phillipus could see the cold, blank gaze of Doctor Bedlam as it fell on them.

“Bedlam, my fine fettered friend,” Kanto mused as he stared up at the towering cybernetic construct.  The thing was a robot to Phillipus, an advanced form of another, which Darkseid had used in his intergalactic conquest- a Brainiac.  “I must say, your new attire suits you divinely.  Definitely a step up in fashion.”

“Your wit,” Bedlam answered, “is lost on us as usual, Kanto.  Still, we find your presence diverse and oddly distracting.”

“Ah, that’s the Coluans turning your tongue, Bedlam.  Methinks that tin suit suits you better than you think.”

Bedlam stared at Kanto for a moment, and Phillipus saw the diodes of his eyes shifting through a spectrum of color as the machine collated data.  It was a bit unnerving, and fearing a quarrel as was sometimes the case when the Elite met, she herself calculated the many ways she might destroy the robotic shell if need be.

“The others are coming,” the Brainiac said at last, returning its attention to the Plaza, and the clean up, which had begun.  Phillipus saw a herd of lowlies being driven into the area, brushes and mops in hand to begin the long hard task of polishing the blood-tainted stone.  “Vunderbarr arrives as we communicate.”

Bedlam indicated the harbor, already filled with warships that had brought the armies of Darkseid to Thymscira, at least in part.  There she saw the flagship of the fleet, a great construct that appeared a mix of technology and flesh created from the massive form of a deep sea leviathan captured and tamed by the Deep Six long ago.  It was huge, over a mile in its serpentine length though the bulk of the beast remained hidden beneath the crystalline blue waves.  What appeared was the massive head, gray and slimy and dotted with dozens of sightless, squinting eyes here in the bright sun of the surface world.  Its great maw opened to reveal row upon row of ragged circling teeth descending into the darkness of its deep throat as it yowled in discomfort.  It gasped in the air, its foul breath rushing the waves to shore and exhuding a stench that roiled across the island.  Phillipus winced in the odiferous wind, while Kanto chuckled, quickly bringing a perfumed silk tissue to his mouth and nose.

“Leave it to the Baron to make such a grandiose entrance.”  Kanto laughed, moving on again, ignoring Bedlam with a backhanded shrug.  “I do hope Granny has a bit more decorum.”

Phillipus followed along as Kanto continued his walk through the field.  They passed through the scene slowly, Kanto nodding to those few ranking warriors that dared meet his gaze, though most simply bowed or nodded, swiftly returning to task.  With a flurry, the assassin drew his thin epee and ran it through the throat of one body, perceiving life where others had not apparently.  He strolled on, leaving the blade stained as he whipped it from side to side in his path.  Finally they reached his apparent destination.

Archon Phillipus looked up the long, grand stairs before them, the white stone almost unstained and shining pristinely, a blazing white in the glorious glow of the sun.  Only there at the base lay a body, one of the Gordanian Slavers somehow slain in battle.  One of Darkseid’s few losses- if a dead Gordanian could be called a loss.  Beside the bulk of the lizard man knelt Mala, her spear in hand but cocked in tribute to her master.  Phillipus smiled to see that her ‘Sister’ had survived unscathed.

“Mala,” Kanto said with a smile, returning the scented cloth to his ascot and then tucking his acquired glove into his wide belt.  He bid the Amazon to rise and placed a hand on her arm when she did.  “You have done well, child,” he continued, looking back to Phillipus, “as have you all.  I am pleased, as I am certain is Lord Darkseid.”

“Thank you, milord,” the two guardians said in unison, actually blushing in the praise.  Phillipus shared a slight knowing smile with her sister as Kanto continued up the steps.

“The doors remain fast?” he asked as Phillipus hurried to match his stride while Kanto climbed the long flight taking two steps easily at a time.

“None reached the gate, Lord Kanto.  You have my assurance.”

“Of course I do.”  Kanto chuckled again as he continued up, and the Archon wondered again as to just what lay behind the massive, oaken doors at the top of the grand stairs.  There was a temple atop the hill, which was not the highest on the island, but it was the greatest peak amidst the Plaza, looking down even on Darkseid’s monolithic likeness.  It was a large, simple construct with a high-peaked roof and built of that same white stone that made up the bulk of the Plaza itself.  Thick pillars surrounded the outer frame, and though she could not read magic the Archon recognized the intricate Runes of Protection etched into every block of the construction.  But were the Runes in place to ward against entry or escape?  It was one of Thymscira’s oldest mysteries, and one that Kanto had never revealed- at least not yet.

At last they reached the summit, the platform before the bolted, banded, locked doors that stood a full three bodies in height and wide enough to allow five to walk through easily abreast.  Thick metal chains were draped across the portal beyond the iron bands that were driven into the outer frame and criss-crossing the ancient wood.  And as though that were not enough, two of Thymscira’s finest stood before the doors on guard, their spears remaining crossed and fixed even at the approach of Lord Kanto himself.  The Archon knew that even mighty Darkseid must give the word should he deign pass, if he ever did.

“Ladies…” Kanto said with a flourish and a bow.  Phillipus was pleased to see that her sisters, the Guardians of the Portal did not even flinch and barely blinked as only their eyes moved to follow the Master’s distracting movements.  When he returned to his full height she could see too that he was filled with pride of a sort.  Still he stepped forward, unafraid at the twin gazes locked upon him, though he stopped just short of danger to stare at the massive doors.

“Can you feel it child?” he asked, raising his hand and spreading his fingers.  And indeed she did, as always.  There was a cold, which seemed to permeate her body even through her armor, that black body stocking that was proof against attack as well as temperature.  She tried in vain to suppress the shiver that coursed through her muscular form and set her teeth to chattering as she wrapped what was left of her cloak about her for the extra warmth that it might provide.  Kanto glanced back and smirked at the movement.

“Of course you do.  I fear even the Dark Lord himself would feel the chill here, so close to the Great Beyond.”  Phillipus saw the thin wispy vapors escaping Kanto’s lips as he spoke, his attention returning to the guarded portal.  “This is one of those few places that withstood HIS majesty, you know?  One of those spots, which HIS dark might could not alter.  He had his General Zatanna bond it with magic ages past to seal away that, which might seek egress, reinforcing the more mundane locking mechanisms that were already in place.  Even still, you can feel what lies beyond ever on the edge and trying to breech the portal.  You can hear it sometimes, can’t you?”  This last he addressed to the Guardians, but they remained silent and stoic in their duty and honor.

“Let us hope,” he said turning away to gaze out over the Plaza, “that Darkseid has not forgotten that in his newfound glory.”

“What…” Phillipus started to ask, momentarily forgetting her place.  Kanto laughed as she dropped to her knees and exposed her neck to him again.  “Forgive my effrontery, my Lord.  Take my life…”

“Get up,” Kanto commanded with amusement.  “And do stop that.  You want to know what lies beyond, I take it?”

Phillipus nodded slightly as she rose, licking her lips.

“Soon, child,” he said, his eyes narrowing as his scrutiny of the Plaza fell to the dais on the far side where Darkseid stood with his Mistress Death.  “I fear soon that we shall all know first hand what…”

VENIRE

Archon Phillipus heard the Word of the Dark Lord as it washed through her very being.  She felt the ache of being so far from HIS presence.  She felt the longing, the lust for HIS guidance and dark love.  She felt HIS will and way rushing through her, a mighty river at flood tide ravaging her soul and beckoning her to ‘come’.

“Duty calls, it seems,” Kanto said with a shrug and a sigh.  Still, Phillipus could see that Darkseid’s summons had shaken even he.  It was that, which the Dark Lord had sought for eternity; the Anti-Life Equation his at last and lacing his words with the One True Power.  The barest whisper of a dark god…

“Come child,” Kanto said breaking Phillipus from her reveries and bliss.  The Master Assassin had started down the long, polished stairs already well away.  “Let us gather with the others.  This should be entertaining in the very least.”

Archon Phillipus could not understand her mentor’s attitude in the face of the Dark Lord’s grandeur.  He seemed almost amused with what should be the most glorious day in history.  Hers though was not to question, she knew, but obey.  Swiftly she hurried down the steps to catch up to her master’s gait, falling in place behind once again.

LUNA

The Tower…

VENIRE…

“Nooo…”

Desaad whined, his long, bony hands playing at the controls of the machines before him.  Multi-colored lights flickered and flashed, bathing him in a myriad of hue and sparkling from the thin rivulets of sweat that ran from beneath the hood of his thick, scratchy robes.  His hair fell slick and matted from the shadows as his eyes widened and narrowed, his fingers flashing across the archaic switches and buttons of his Most-Awesome Replicator.  He glanced up, worry wrinkling his brow.

“Not… yet…” he whispered, barely biting back a curse, knowing that Darkseid was probably listening.  He stared wide-eyed as the writhing blobs of protoplasm contained in the large crystalline tubes aligned along the far wall began to glow and gurgle.  His hand drifted, turning a wide knob slightly, almost grinning as the nearest mutate crackled and squealed.  A thin and scraggly arm burst forth for an instant, taking shape from the DNA matrix, which he had fed through the machines.  Just as suddenly though it submerged once more, the fleshy mass bubbling with the intrusion.

“So close, milord…” he whispered, his fingers flying across the keyboard to his right, recalculating the flow of power born of both magic and science.  It was the right of Apokolips, that weird mix spawned in the early ages, even before the Dark Lord’s rise to power.  There were few that could master that strange energy, and even Desaad could only manipulate it despite years of effort.  Still, the wonders, which he had created in service of the Dark Lord had been mighty and plentiful as a result of his tireless efforts.  Even now he struggled to bring forth new creations for the glory of his king.

Simyan and Mokarri had failed him of course, again.  The rebels had destroyed their Evil Factory, along with some of their most devious creations; the Four-Armed Terrors and the Green Behemoth that would have been proof against the Steel General and his ilk.  Even Doomsday had fallen, if Desaad’s ‘eyes and ears’ were to be believed.  And why not?  They had nothing to fear but death if they lied, or lost, or displeased…

“Ahhhh!”

A face appeared in the mass in the third tube, agony etching the half-formed features before the strain pulled it back into the blob.  Desaad increased the flow again, altering the potable mixtures that ran into each of the containment tubes in turn.  He could almost recognize the face that had appeared briefly, pressing on the glass and trying to escape.  He was so close…

Desaad, Master Torturer and Scientist Supreme of mighty Darkseid jumped at the echoing boom of explosion that rolled through the halls of his tower.  He thought at first that his lord had grown impatient and had come to chastise him, but as dust drifted past and the very walls hummed with the concussive reverberations of battle he knew that it was no mere Boom Tube that had appeared.  It was invasion!

“No!” Desaad shouted, standing from his chair as the din of battle raged closer.  His guards beyond were good and obedient fodder, but he knew that in this time of crisis, when Darkseid ascended to true glory that there would be much flux and discourse.  The chattel universe-wide would succumb immediately to HIS Word, Will and Way of course, but there were some- just a handful perhaps in the multitude that would struggle unto death itself.

Desaad giggled at that, biting his cheek as he tried to remain focused to the task at hand.  He tasted the bitter iron of blood as he concentrated, watching as the fifth tube at last stabilized.  He ignored the harsh shouts and alarms beyond his locked door at the far end of his innermost sanctum.  He ignored the screams of the injured and dying.  Fodder and distraction, they would all give their lives to protect him.  He had to wonder just which army dared invade him here however, on the Moon.  He would learn soon enough he imagined, but they would find him waiting, if only he was true to the cause and swift enough to make his dreams reality.

There were the self-proclaimed Young Rebels of course, but they were occupied he saw as his gaze flitted to the monitor array set above his chair.  While half of their team raced to Apokolips to face Darkseid’s mongrel son and War world, the other strived to free a slip of a girl from Arkham on the edge of Gotham Block.  They foolishly believed that she somehow held the key to their salvation, and though Desaad had sensed the latent power and magic within her, he knew that against the glory of Darkseid she would prove too little.

But Gotham, as always, proved to be a cancerous well-spring of resistance.  The Bat was dead, luckily, thankfully as he was always a contingency that none might prepare for, but he had taken Godfrey and one of his Divine along for that final ride.  Only the orphaned boy remained to carry on the fight, but he was NOT the Bat.

Elsewhere, the Prophet Martian and his little band of zealots had managed to send Malefic into the Phantom Zone.  Served the vile fool right of course, and it was a kind of poetic justice that the creature should endure that living hell for a time.  He could be recalled of course for the grace of pilfered Kryptonian technology, but let him suffer for now.  He and all of the criminals within would possibly return now that Darkseid had achieved his final goal.

But of course there was the other Kryptonian to consider.  The Superman had fallen beneath the radar for a time- he and the Daxamite after the betrayal of the Eradicator.  That foul creation had done the most damage to the cause, eradicating so to speak the entirety that had been Daxam’s populace, dropping them into the space of a red sun and letting them die powerless.  And with the Kryptonian Army engaged, and Brainiac destroyed the galaxy would surely tremble at the Man of Steel’s rage and vengeance.  Could it be…

No!  Even now they reappeared, twin streaks of violet rocketing towards New Apokolips- Earth and that final confrontation.  But if not them, then who?

Desaad screamed to hear the shattering of the door to his most private chamber.  He turned as fear crept through his bony body, his eyes wide as his attention was lost to see the bronzed form come crashing through the solid door that was the final barrier.  He recognized the golden form, the muscular body armored in black and blue even as it struggled on, casting aside the last of those guards trying to stem his progress.

“Desaad!” the Infinity Man shouted, surging forward.  He slammed a bronze armored soldier against the solid stone wall, crushing the brute’s helmet with an easy gesture and barely grunting acknowledgement as he passed on.  One final warrior he shrugged away, his battering fist driving fully through the soldier with ease and grace.  The Warrior of the Source then turned his glowing eyes to the master torturer.  “Infinity comes for you this day, deviant!”

Desaad whined as he glanced back, his hand slamming prematurely on the huge red button that would release what might well be his final creations.  They had not matured, and in truth some would die upon exposure, but those that did not would fight in his name.  He would be saved…

He screamed as glass shattered and smoke billowed forth in the explosions of all the tubes but three.  Sparks flew forth, energy coursing through his being and making him shriek in agony as the backlash of power washed through him.  He flew back, skidding across the rough stone, tumbling finally to a stop at the feet of the invader.  He was breathing hard, could barely see as he stared up into the unforgiving countenance of the Infinity Man.

“Your evil ends here, torturer.  You have suppressed will and freedom for far too long in this twisted regime, and at last vengeance is upon you.  Give your final glories to your dark god, deviant…”

There was a flash of pink went surging past overhead as something smashed into the body of the infinity Man.  In that flash he was gone, and Desaad heard the smash of metal and flesh on unmoving stone.  He cackled as he struggled to his feet, knowing at once that there was still hope.

His Gatherers had retrieved the false form of Kara Zor-El from the cold depths of space even as the Coluan Computer Tyrants began the corruption of the dead Technis World with their blight.  That Supergirl that he had created from the cells of the original cousin of the Steel General had been one of his greatest creations, though in the end she had fallen short, beaten by the Technis Cyborg World.  She could be reborn however, corrupted and twisted to even greater depravities and power, if there was time.  The True Matrix was sound to be sure, deviated only a bit when separated by Simyan to create that other version named Mya in the bowels of the Evil Factory.  Desaad retained the first template though, and it remained pure to his schematics.

Desaad watched as the naked, beauteous form of the Girl of Steel hammered unmercifully upon the Infinity Man.  She was a goddess in form if not power; a deity of rage unbound as her birthing left her primal and untainted.  There was only the desire to fulfill her urges; lust, hate, pride and all those deadly sins of man burning to the fore.  The room glowed red as the Infinity Man burned beneath her fiery gaze.

“Gack…”

Desaad choked as a hand encircled his thin neck.  He felt his feet lift from the suddenly warm stone, his legs kicking for purchase as he choked for breath.  He tried to turn, to gaze upon whoever held him thus and upon seeing the naked, glorious form behind, that flash of red hair and the marred face twisted by brutal hatred he knew.  He felt a sudden explosion of warmth as the Infinity Man screamed.

“Desaad…” the gravelly voice said, steel like fingers twisting his neck, turning him about in the vise like grip until he was facing his captor.  Desaad gagged, gasping as he tried to choke out platitudes to save his dwindling life.

“L-lord… Orion…” he choked, and the son of Darkseid snarled, tightening his grip to choke off the words of the deceiver.

“You presume much, Desaad.  How long?  How long have you kept me thus from my true destiny?” Desaad squirmed, his eyes taking in the hundred, the thousands of scars marring the god-like body that held him.  He had taken much from Darkseid’s first-born, attempting to recreate an actual god and failing miserably for near eternity.  In truth all that he had managed was a pale shadow, one of Darkseid’s Servants of Darkness, a twisted mockery of the Hunter.  Did Orion suspect?  It did not matter…

“Please…” he whispered, staring into Orion’s cold, cruel eyes.  There was no mercy there.

There was a scream of pain and Desaad heard a body hit the floor.  Orion pulled him close, still keeping his grip and turned his head to see.  He saw his Supergirl unconscious on the floor, the Infinity Man standing over her, another young woman at his side.  She was comely, with dark hair and scantily clad in black save for the scarlet poncho draped over her shoulder trimmed in gold with that accursed shield emblazoned prominently for all to see.  Who…

“Gaze upon your works and despair, torturer,” Orion said as his fingers flexed about Desaad’s scrawny throat.  “It ends!”


Laurel Kent watched as the thick-robed man spasmed in the grip of the ugly, naked man.  She shivered to hear the snap of bone, finally turning away as the gaunt man died kicking and gasping for air.  She bit her lip to hear the sound of the body falling to the floor.

She stared at the unconscious form on the floor at her feet.  A naked, beautiful woman about her own age with blonde locks that almost seemed to glow.  She seemed familiar, looking almost like Andromeda in a way…

Andromeda?

“All will be clear soon, Laurel Kent.”

She turned to stare at the man- the Infinity Man he had called himself.  He had plucked her from that final battle, taking her away as the Legion had been attacking Darkseid on Apokolips.  She had no idea where he had brought her, or why.  He had only said that her true destiny lay elsewhere before he had taken her from her friends.  They had come here to the Moon then, traveling through some booming portal only to immediately be assaulted by an army defending the strange castle-like structure that they found there.

She had no idea- not a clue.  The Moon that she remembered was a cultured and terraformed world, a satellite and extension of the Earth and the main layover for intergalactic travel into Earth Gov.’s near space.  The Moon she saw now was a barren wasteland as it appeared in the history vids, without the slightest sign of man’s touch save for the castle that they had invaded.

The Infinity Man had taken point as he barreled through the rank and file of the bronze-armored soldiers, crippling or even killing with every blow.  He seemed uncaring as he blazed a path through the defenders, pausing only long enough for her to sick up and then catch up.  She had never seen such wanton slaughter in her short life.

He had told her to wait as he had fought through the final door, bursting through the thick wood and dragging the guards along.  She had watched from safety, strong but not invulnerable as the Infinity Man threw off the last of the soldiers only to be attacked by the naked blonde.  She had been strong, and too much for the Infinity Man, at least until Laurel had joined the fray.

The blonde woman had seemed almost astounded when their eyes finally locked, and Laurel had been the swifter to take advantage of the confusion.  She had heard her knuckles crack and shatter as she had laid a punch into the blonde’s jaw, staggering her as the Infinity Man laid her low with a massive blow.  The pain was only starting to set in now, her hand throbbing as she looked up from the prone form to the ugly man and the Infinity Man.

They were both staring at her…

“What?” she asked, looking from one to the other with confusion and worry.  The Infinity Man gestured to the unconscious body at their feet.

“There awaits destiny, Laurel Kent.”

“What?” she asked again, looking to the scarred warrior, hoping he might explain but he just grunted and stepped away, heading for a row of metallic lockers lining a far wall.  She turned back to the other.  “What do you mean?”

“You do not exist, Laurel Kent,” the Infinity Man said.  “That era, which I took you from was erased long ago, and rightly so some might say.  Your convoluted history was a cancerous sore on reality itself.  It is only Darkseid’s machinations that has let you return.  That must be rectified.”  He gestured at the blonde on the floor.  “There awaits destiny.  Your guidance is needed that the Supergirl might return.”

“Hue me dense as Inertron, but I don’t get the frag of what you’re spieling.”  Laurel stepped back a bit, expecting the worst.  Her months at the Legion Academy under Chuck Taine’s guidance had taught her that much.  Maybe she would never be good enough to be a full fledged Legionnaire, but she would be spiffy if she didn’t stand to the last.  The Infinity Man simply stared at her, his expression blank.  She saw that the red-haired warrior had found some clothes; a red uniform and helmet, and was getting dressed.

“You have the soul and drive to guide this form,” the Infinity Man said.  “You must merge with Kara Zor-El, that she might become whole.  She is needed.  You are needed.”

“Kara…”

Laurel Kent’s mind reeled as she recalled the Maid of Might; Superboy’s cousin and truly the strongest, best Legionnaire of all time.  Her missions with the Legion of Super-Heroes were sporadic and strange, but there were none that disputed her true power.  Even more than Superboy, who had been the initial inspiration in RJ Brande was oft considered a pale shadow of the Girl of Steel.

Andromeda…

“You fade, Laurel Kent,” the infinity Man said.  “Reality reasserts itself and even I cannot hold it at bay.  You must decide…”

There was a scream and all eyes turned to see something like liquid flesh oozing from the final tube that had not exploded in Desaad’s premature birthing.  The blob rolled to the floor bubbling and writhing, jutting limbs forming momentarily only to sink into the mass again within a heartbeat.  The Infinity Man stepped to the thing, joined by the other now decked out in his red and blue armor, his shining silver helm.  She saw the face of Kal-El twisting in the fleshy blob and shivered, gagging.

His eyes were huge and blue, watery as his mouth gaped and sucked at the air.  It looked like Proty in a way, all dough-like and morphing uncontrollably.  It was obviously confused and hurting and Laurel Kent felt her heart swell to see its torment.

“Kill it,” she said, her voice hoarse and laced with tears.  “Rao, kill it…”

They simply stared, watching the half-formed creature writhe on the floor.

She glanced down and saw the blonde was awake, her huge blue eyes staring at her.

She felt a hand wrap about her ankle.

She knew what she had to do…


The thing on the floor screamed as it was enveloped by a fiery blaze of red.  Orion and the infinity Man watched as the face of Kal-El twisted with the sudden pain, then simply vanished, burned from existence.  There was a charred and smoldering spot on the stone when the thing that Desaad had created finally died and faded away.  They turned…

They saw her standing there.  She was Kara Zor-El, her long, blond hair unruly and falling about her shoulders.  Her eyes were glowing red, a pale light still fading as she strode forward to brush her foot across the charred stone.  She was dressed in the skimpy black costume of Laurel Kent, the red and gold poncho flung back across her shoulders to reveal her fully.  She seethed with an anger barely held in check.

“Too many memories,” she said through gritted teeth.  Her hands were trembling fists at her side, dripping blood as her nails pierced her skin.  “I remember Kal.  I remember Clark.  I remember Toni… We need to end this… this façade…”

“We shall,” the Infinity Man said as he raised his hands…
BOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!

They all stared at the gaping, crackling maw of the Boom Tube opened there before them.  They could see the shadowy glimpses of the battle raging beyond, the familiar violet blur darting in and out of sight.

“To Earth,” the Infinity Man said, but Orion shook his head.

“To war!” he shouted, leaping into the Tube without hesitation.

Supergirl followed…

THYMSCIRA

The Grand Plaza…

“Attend.”

Darkseid stood silently, his arms folded behind his back as his gaze swept the Grand Plaza far below the dais where he stood.  He watched them gather, his lackeys and followers all; from his personal Elite, to his Amazonian Guardians, his soldiers and warriors down to the mindless Para Demons massing in the back.  There were hundreds, thousands in the throng coming forward to hear his word, his divine glory and even the lowest Lowlies far to the rear paused from their menial toils and looked up with awe and wonder on otherwise hopeless faces.

It was nothing.

This mass was a mere whisper, a shadow of the forces that were under his command.  A single star in the firmament.  There were millions more, billions upon billions across the universe that waited for his slightest word, his barest whim.  They were his, in mind, body and soul evermore.  He had won.

Darkseid glanced back to the woman that stood in his shadow.  Hippolyta had looked better.  Her hair was still dark, but the luster was starting to fade, the very strands appearing dry and almost dead.  Her soft skin had grown cold and pale, tight about her form, which grew ever more gaunt with every passing moment it seemed.  Her dark eyes still glowed with a lustful intelligence, but they were sunken now, hidden within the shadows of hollowing sockets.  Her full lips were dull and chapped.  Her cheeks looked gaunt and almost skeletal.  Death was upon her.

Still, she looked back with a longing, a spark of love that still haunted her spectral features.  Hippolyta met his gaze unblinking, the husk that contained that token of Death from another universe watching him silently with approval.  Not that he cared any longer.

She had achieved a goal even, as had he.  Her transferal to this shadow land, this mirror mockery of his own dead realm to further her own dark lusts had been no different than his own, at least in the beginning.  He of course had wanted what he had always sought; the Anti-Life Equation!  It was through her own desires that his dream would finally bear fruit, and through cooperation, hers as well.

He had learned of that other realm’s Death through sheer circumstance and coincidence from one not unlike himself when he had thought to conquer fresh worlds.  He had learned of other gods and more.  And he had learned that the ultimate question, the answer was within his grasp.  A simple matter then to fool the fools of two worlds, to give Death that, which she sought.  More: More souls to take, to fill her coffers.  Where Thanos had thought to end life, Darkseid had known to create it.  In his own image of course…

He had stolen the powers of Creation, just a tiny fraction to be sure, but in the end enough.  That very spark allowed him to mold and alter this shadow realm into his own desires, like blocks placed just so, dominoes in a grand pattern that he would walk through eternity.  A simple matter to eliminate those things and beings that might offend; the Lords of Chaos and Order, the various pagan deities still clinging to faltering few worshippers, the Endless, Kismet...

There were problems of course.  Darkseid was supreme, but he was not so vainglorious as to assume that he was the ONE.  Not yet at any rate.  Soon though, as Death had given up her secrets out of his gift of ‘love’.  This Universe was hers, after it was his.  Such was the pact that they had formed.  He had given her the souls and that shard of Anti-Life in return for the secret of the equation, and now that one, true power boiled within him for release…

FLECTERE

Darkseid smiled as the multitude before him dropped in unison to a knee, bowing their heads to the ground.  All obeyed without hesitation, murmuring his praises and parables with true love and devotion.  It did not matter whether Elite or Lowlie, all were subservient to a fault.  Thus was the true power and the secret of Anti-Life.  Free will had been stripped away, with caution and care of course.  To take fully inspiration would be to create a universe of mindless drones that would hang on his every thought, waiting to be commanded to blink or breathe.  That would be sheer stupidity on his part, and not what he desired truly.  The ability to make it so however, with but a word…

Darkseid scanned the crowd, his eyes at last resting on one of the warriors dropped to one knee and whispering devotion.  His armor was battered and tarnished, and there was blood about the seam of his shoulder joint from a wound, yet still he bowed and prayed, ignoring his inner pain.  Darkseid smiled...

MORI

The soldier fell forward, his chest heaving twice and then he lay still.  Dead with but a word, he had ceased his own life for the greater good and will of Darkseid.  And it was the same with any of them… anywhere.  He could command the same of Granny Goodness there beneath him in the gathering, or of the Queen of Tamaran light years across the universe.  He could slay her with a thought.  He could feel her there, waiting to die.  He could feel them all.

Almost…

He had learned long ago that there were those that he might never subvert, or at least not for long.  There were some with an ever-burning desire to resist, to fight back no matter the condition of adversity.  It was the nature of things, he supposed.  He had learned that in the end, with the devastation of his own realm, as the very nature of Anti-Life personified had wiped away existence of that universe where he had been given breath.  As always it had been the Kryptonian who had been the catalyst for destruction.  It had been the Son of Jor-L who had fought to the bitter end despite that there was nothing left to fight for.  Nothing but a dream…

Again, and as always…

Darkseid glanced up as the skies sparkled at the horizon, the radiant blue split by a jagged flash of blinding white.  Thunder rolled over the waves, the waters parting in their wake as they approached almost too fast to be seen; one red, one blue, brothers in blood if not in name.  They were Gemini.  They were Moses and Aaron come to free their people from a false god.  Kryptonian and Daxamite…

Man and Superman…

Darkseid laughed…


It was like a dream- a recurring nightmare.

There would be no surprise.  He knew it.  They both knew it.  They had felt it as soon as they had re-entered reality, such as it was, leaving that other space behind.  They felt the presence as it filled them.  The darkness that seeped into their minds and bodies, permeating their very beings with vacant atrocity.

No words were said.  There was nothing TO say.  A simple glance to his left and Mon-El had nodded in understanding.  He knew and more, he understood.  The older brother he had never had.  The friend that he did not remember.  Still and always they were as one.

He had almost killed him- twice now.  Once by mistake in a past long abandoned.  More recently in a world he never made out of revenge and sheer malicious intent, spawned by the ideals of a madman.  They had fought this battle before.  Or they would, or might.  It was confusing, a vortex of insanity swirling from that common point, that second that had been stolen and hidden away where another world was born.

It was his again now, and all the strange and distant memories that went along with it.  Once wiped away by crisis, it had all returned as a maelstrom in his mind.  But the answers were there he knew, if he could sort them out.

It had been the Time Trapper after all.  It had been his twisted desires to save reality from itself, to recreate a dream that would stand up ultimately to that final crisis.  This crisis, here and now.  Darkseid had shattered Reality and put it back together again in his own dark image.  But for a second, a heartbeat plucked from time, he would have succeeded, and none of them, no one would be the wiser.  But for a dream…

They saw the swarm rising from the island even as they pierced that veil that surrounded Paradise.  He could see that Thymscira was in ruins, washed in blood and charred and broken.  Buildings had fallen, once great temples, monuments to forgotten gods shattered.  The dead yet littered the Grand Plaza of Zeus, and worse.  Beyond, pyres raged with the desecration, bodies stacked high and burning, black smoke curling into the pristine blue sky.  And the army of Darkseid was there, some yet kneeling in blood, in blind homage while the Para Demons rose to face the oncoming threat.

He could see Darkseid there, lording over all from the gallery above the plaza.  He was smiling, slight and cold, watching with self-assurance and confidence as they approached.  He could see Hippolyta at his side, pale and gaunt as death; like Death.  He could see the Elite as well, standing now, running to prepare.  And they were upon them…

The swarm rose up to meet them like a dark swirling cloud, blocking their way.  They were the least in Darkseid’s arsenal, the Para Demons.  They were the expendable fodder, born and bred in the hives of Apokolips.  They were called Bugs by those New Gods that even cared to acknowledge them, they were so low on the scale of divinity.  But life in any form was precious, at least to him.

He felt the heat at his side.  The sky turned red as Mon-El’s eyes flashed and screams filled the air.  Bodies burst into flame.  Armor glowed and smoldered as the Para Demons died in quick agony.  Some simply vanished in a wisp of cloying smoke as the Daxamite’s Heat Vision shifted to white.  Here under the blazing sun in the crystalline skies above Thymscira they both swelled with power, and Mon-El would not hesitate.  But life was precious- even these.

The Superman grabbed Mon-El’s arm, his steely grip squeezing for attention.  The last Daxamite turned, his eyes still shining red and smoldering with angry heat.  The last Daxamite; the Eradicator had seen to that.  Brothers…

“You’re killing them,” Kal-El said, his voice as steady as he could allow.  The passion for vengeance burned within him as well, but they had to be better than that, even now.  “There’s no need.  They are not the problem, just a distraction…”

“You are the distraction, Kal-El,” Mon-El shot back, his eyes sweeping the near skies again with fire.  More screams.  “This is war now.  It always has been, and these…” he gestured to the flying soldiers drawing near again, “these are not even lives.  Mindless drones born and created for this very purpose- to die for the will of Darkseid.  If we hesitate now, if we lose it will not matter.  If we win, then hopefully reality will right itself and again, it will not matter…”

“Reality abhors contradiction…” Kal-El whispered, remembering the dream.  Mon-El nodded, his eyes blazing again.

“We must win, though our souls are forfeit for what we do.  Now more than ever before, brother.  We MUST win!”

Mon-El pulled his arm away and dove into the swarm.  The sky burned with his rage, a thousand suns exploding as the screams of the dying swelled to a feverish crescendo.  The Superman licked his lips, feeling the warmth and the burn, feeling the life and power of the sun growing within him, filling his being and screaming for release.  Mon-El was right.

“Damn him…”

Faster than a speeding bullet, the Man of Steel rocketed forward, smashing through the swarm as though it really were a cloud.  He ignored the screams that fell on deaf ears.  He let the blood wash away and burn with friction as he raged, screaming his own as he drove on, faster…

Faster…

“Darkseid!”


DEFENDERE!

He could slay them both with a word.  A whisper and they would simply cease to live.  Here, so close, even these would not resist the One True Power.  But there was time.  There was time eternal now, and when the Kryptonian and the Daxamite were gone, who might be left to oppose him.  Who would be worthy of his personal attention?

Highfather and his rabble?  Doddering fools, the lot of them.

The Children?  The prophet?  They were all as nothing.  Naught compared to these two; the greatest and last of their kind.  Here was glorious victory worthy of the grand finale.  Here was the culmination of a life’s work.  They would die, but it would be a battle to recall.

Darkseid watched as the Superman streaked forward.  Here on Thymscira time was not.  In the midst of catastrophe it seemed that the world slowed, and Darkseid could see the Kryptonian in every facet of his majesty.  He could see the anger etched into the lines of his face.  His mouth wide as he screamed his rage, his eyes burning with an inner fire reflected in his piercing gaze.  He was determined, mindless in his goal.  So like Orion when pushed too far.

Darkseid smiled as his army rose to his defense.  The soldiers shouldered their fire sticks and raised their shock rods to the sky sending those energies merged of science and magic at the foe.  The Man of Steel screamed as the arcane blaze engulfed him, hundreds of beams lashing together in a web of power.  He writhed in the onslaught, his body convulsing against the magic of which he had no proof.

“Granny…”

Darkseid watched as Granny Goodness raised her Mega Rod skyward.  Energy lashed out, crackling into the blaze to snake about the Kryptonian’s throat, constricting and then dragging him down.  The Man of Steel fell to earth without a struggle, and the army was upon him instantly.  They buried him en masse.  Defending as ordered.

“Arrgh!”

Darkseid screamed as fire washed over him.  The world turned a blaze of white for a moment, blinding him with pain.  His skin burned and crackled as his raiment fell away.  He staggered, looking up as his vision cleared.  It was the Daxamite of course.

Mon-El flashed by, his fist hammering in passing and Darkseid stumbled back with the force of the mighty blow.  It might have slain him once.  Now he simply adjusted his stance as the violet blur arched up and about.  Darkseid smiled.

Twin beams of red shot from his eyes as he emitted the Omega Effect.  The beams sprang forth, turning and twisting to follow the streaking form, unerringly striking the Daxamite in the end.  He heard Mon-El’s scream as the Effect washed through his sun-drenched body, driving him to earth as well.

The Daxamite however was far more than the Kryptonian however, in his own way.  He had been forged of different fires, subjected to a lifetime and more, banished to a hell of existence as a phantom.  He knew the pain of longing, and the price needed to win.  Mon-El was willing to die for his cause, and he rose up within the mass of the army of Apokolips, his eyes blazing, and his fists shattering.

Vunderbarr vanished in a puff of smoke, and Darkseid heard Bedlam’s scream as the Brainiac construct was reduced to a molten slag.  Mon-El rose god-like above the masses, his eyes burning, and his breath chill, shattering those beneath him.  Glorious.

Bodies flew as the Superman struggled.  The Kryptonian fought back, even leashed as Granny surged the lash full of energy into his being.  He would never heel, Darkseid knew.  Not now.  They were all beyond the mundane.  This was a war of gods, a clash of titans.


Granny Goodness shrank back as Superman reached out and crushed the rod in her hand.  Her eyes went wide with terror as the energy lash faded away and he dropped the mangled remains of the Mega Rod.  With a breath he froze everyone near, ice encompassing all.  His eyes blazed red…

Superman sighed as Granny Goodness shattered, her now fragile body frozen and burned, exploding with stress along with all the others.  He hoped that Mon-El was right, that in the end it would not matter.

“Darkseid…”

He looked up, ignoring the blasts of energy bouncing off of him as he saw Darkseid still there on the balcony.  Mon-El had struck the first blow, as the dark god smoldered with the last bits of his armor clinging to his stony skin.

He could feel the assault, the army struggling to take him down.  He ignored it now.  They were nothing.  A distraction.

Superman rose up as well, joining his brother above the squirming, seething mass.  Together…

‘Combined, your power rivals Darkseid…’

The Eradicator had eluded to that, and it was right.  Kal-El glanced at his brother in spirit, and Mon-El nodded in return.

The world turned red…


Archon Phillipus stared up in awe as the gods raged.  Her sword hung limply in hand, useless against such power.  She was nothing, she knew.  Nothing…

She glanced to the side and saw Kanto staring skyward.  His mouth hung open in shock, his eyes wide and frozen in terror.  His body looked crystallized, coated with an icy sheen and cracked, splintered.  He was dead.

And if the gods were dying, what might she do?

Her sisters fought on she saw, those that could.  Most were lost in the sea, the flowing tide of the army that fell before the onslaught of the Dark Lord’s enemies, but some yet remained.  Miry and Pythia, Dara with her axe flashing.  She saw Mala, blood charred at her throat, sprawled on the ground not so far away.  Phillipus bit her lip, choking back a sob to see her love thus, gone…

She knew what she had to do.  The temple.  The Temple of the Gods and the Portal.

That was the key.

Archon Phillipus ran…


Darkseid cursed as the burn faded away.  Such pain.  He who had bathed in the Fire Pits, and his skin sizzled and cracked under their twin gaze.  This would not, could not be.

Darkseid raised his arms, his hands beckoning skyward.  He made a fist…

BOOOOOMMMMM!

They were five.

A miserable lot to be certain, but they served their purpose.  Twisted mockeries of the originals, save one that he had trapped long ago- or was it yesterday?

They poured from the Tube in shadow, his Servants.  Servants of the Great Darkness, which he had created.  Reflections of what had once been…

Lady Quark, crackling with a dark light.

Darkstar, Lydea Mallor, swirling with a shadow all her own.

Zauriel the Fallen, Angel of the Eagle Host now lost and forgotten.

Kalibak, the other son, turned for his failure.

Orion the mockery, wielding the Astro Force.

They surged forward in twisted semblance of life, striking at that, which they saw.  Darkness enveloped the Daxamite, all-encompassing and obfuscating, blotting out his all as dark light shattered illusion.  Mon-El screamed, and the Astro Force burned away his dignity, setting him to confusion.  Mon-El fell into the mob…

Kalibak slammed his club upside the Kryptonian’s head, his ragged voice snarling with the thrill of battle.  That was all that Kalibak had been good for, and all that he was now with the darkness in his soul.  No great loss, and better than the final death that the illegitimate heir richly deserved.  The Kryptonian faltered under the assault, laced with magic of course, the science of Desaad and Apokolips.  And more…

Zauriel raised his fiery sword, poised for the killing blow.

BOOOOMMMM!

Darkseid blinked as time seemed to pause.  A Boom Tube had opened again, just as quickly as that.

“What?”

There was a streak of bronze and blue and black as Zauriel spiraled away, his sword flying free.  The world flashed red again, and Darkseid knew pain once more.

“Hello, father…”

Darkseid stared at the form, the body clad in red and blue that dropped to the balcony before him.  He knew it well…

“Orion…” he whispered.

“Is that fear I hear in your voice, father?  Is that hesitation?”

Orion screamed, his fist rearing back and then streaking forward.  Stars exploded in Darkseid’s vision as he staggered with the shattering blow.  He shook his head, unprepared for the assault.  Confused.  He had not recreated his son.  He had skipped over prophecy.  How?  He looked to Death, but Hippolyta simply stared.

Fire erupted about them again and he saw the girl.  Blonde and beautiful, terrible in her glory as she hovered there above them, her hair blowing in the breeze.

“Burn…” she said, and they did.  Orion laughed.


Kalibak screamed as Mon-El snapped his neck, his thumbs digging into the decayed flesh.  The brute had been strong, powered by the darkness but he was little compared to the light of reason.  Mon-El let the body fall away, lost in the writhing crowd below.  It had been a bitter struggle fighting his way up and away from the seething mob, and Kalibak had been there waiting for him.  The fight had been brutal and violent, and mercifully quick.  They did not have the time for these distractions.

He scanned the scene of the battle quickly, the field in turmoil.  The bronzed warrior struggled against the Angel yet, neither winning nor losing.  Kal-El however was beset by the other three.  He recognized she who had been the Lady Quark.  A kindred spirit and last of her race, now twisted to Darkseid’s will.  And where she blasted with a dark light, the mockery that had been Talokian surged with shadow.  And in the midst, Kal-El writhed under the fearful, frightening onslaught of the Astro Force, as wielded by that thing that might have once been Orion.  It was a corruption, but still it was effective.

Mon-El shot forward even as Kal-El reached out and grabbed the Servant that was Lydea Mallor by the throat.  He squeezed, and Lar Gand heard the snap of bone.  Lydea sounded not unlike Kalibak as she died the final death at last.

Mon-El slammed into Quark’s unprotected back and heard her spine shatter.  She screamed in pain, still firing her dark light though wildly now.  She had lost concentration and focus.  Kal-El swept his arm, his fist connecting and shadow erupted as Quark’s head splintered in violent ecstasy.

What had once been Orion ran…


“The Source calls you to task, Angel.  Surrender to the Light!  You shall be forgiven!”

“My Dark Lord has forgiven my sins already!” the Fallen shouted in response as he struggled hand in hand with the Infinity Man.  They appeared equal, locked in embrace, neither giving ground nor taking as they rocked in combat above the rest.  “Succumb to the Darkness.  Therein lies the true path!”

“The Source is the way!” the Infinity Man laughed.  “You have been misled!”

“My path is true!” Zauriel shouted, his fist slamming against the warrior of the Source.  He fell back, stunned just for a moment, but that was all that was needed.  The flaming sword reappeared in Zauriel’s outstretched hand.

“For Darkseid!” the Angel yelled, his sword sweeping forward.

And the world exploded in silver light…


Lois Lane gasped as the world crashed in about her.  Her eyes went wide as she tried to focus, the myriad of images exploding and overwhelming…

The others were there about her.  Jimmy lay dazed on the ground and underfoot.  The boy, Serifan held the Dreamer in his arms and looking skyward in awe.  Henshaw hunkered in confusion, his metallic parts sizzling with burn.

“Wha…” he said, but his voice choked off in his throat with a metallic click.  She saw his body spasm and shut down as his internal computers no doubt tried to compensate, to understand what they were all seeing.  It was hell.

Highfather had merged them all- the five- in a moment of desperation to call forth the Warrior of the Source.  They had traded places with the Infinity Man for a time, and he had gathered forces against Darkseid; Laurel Kent and Orion at least.  But now something had ripped them all from that vast ecstasy, and now they stood in chaos as the final battle raged about them.  The Infinity Man was gone.

Lois staggered back and away, her eyes frantic as she scanned the battlefield.

She saw Orion locked hand in hand in mortal combat with Darkseid himself.

She saw Valor struggling against a dark woman that seemed to be bathed in crackling black light.

She saw Supergirl enveloping the field with her Heat Vision, smiling.

She heard the screams of the dying, the army of Darkseid struggling on in the face of that final adversity, welcoming death before failure in the eyes of their dark lord.

She saw…

“Clark…”

She saw his head turn, his eyes widening as he caught sight of her.  Darkness passed and his face ripped away as something twisted shot by, attacking.  He screamed and she felt her heart skip a beat as it rose up into her throat.

She felt a hand on her shoulder…

“Get back.”

Lois saw Henshaw stagger past, rising slowly into the air as his wide, cybernetic eye blazed with a deathly scarlet.  Heat shot forth and the thing that attacked Clark writhed and screamed…


Hank Henshaw had played the hero before.  Circumstance directed it; not that he had to like it.  Now, as then, it seemed that Superman was the apparent key to victory here, and the man was failing.  Henshaw knew that the rule of Darkseid was wrong, and try as he might he just could not figure a way to come out on top while under Darkseid’s heel.  The mad god had to go, and if that meant saving the Kryptonian, well… So be it.

The Cyborg Superman shot up and forward, the blaze of his cybernetic eye burning brighter as he swooped in towards the struggling Kryptonian.  The freakish little dark thing was flying a tight circle about the Man of Steel, blasting him with some queer light that radiated on bizarre levels both above and below the normal spectrum.  There was magic in the mix, and Henshaw did not appreciate that, but he had seen the other dark things die, so figured that this one with his weird flying device would break just as easily.

He soared higher, getting above the combatants, jockeying for position and watching, letting his power build.  The magic in the things light-based blasts was killing Superman, little by little, whittling him down.  So easy to just wait and watch.  So many problems wiped away, barricades shattered.  But dammit, they probably needed him.  He knew they did.

It always came down to him…

With the slightest shifting of gears, the almost inaudible grind and click in his skull, Henshaw opened wide the aperture of his eye and let the blaze of radiation pour forth.  The ugly little thing writhed as he was bathed in the glow of the spectrum’s higher end, the light washing through him and stripping away dead and dark skin in smoldering strips.  It screamed, trying to get away, to fly off on its flimsy space scooter, but Henshaw widened the arc and kept the beast at bay.

“F-Father…”

It sounded almost human as it cried, but of course Henshaw did not care.  He redistributed power and kicked up the output a notch or two.  And the creature simply crumbled away, dust in the wind.

He saw the Man of Steel hovering there, though barely.  His uniform was in tatters; his face bloody and bruised as he tried to gather his senses, nursing his left arm.  He was beaten and weak.  It would be so easy.

“Try it…”

Henshaw looked upward at the sound of the voice and saw the naked man hovering over him.  His hair was burned almost away and smoldering, his skin red with burn only a little bit less than the crackling glow in his eyes.  This one would kill him he knew at a glance.

Not being an idiot, Henshaw backed away.

Hank Henshaw watched as the other floated down, keeping him in his peripheral vision as he went to Superman’s aid.  They were friends then, obviously, maybe brothers.  The other put an arm about the Kryptonian to steady him and Henshaw shifted his hearing, increasing the feed and sliding into parabolic.

“We’re wasting time, fighting Darkseid’s battles.  We must fight the demon himself,” the other said.

“I… agree…” Superman gasped, and Henshaw could see that the Kryptonian was hurting.  Too, and however, he was healing in the bright, unfiltered yellow sunlight of the strange island where they all were.  “But… his armies…”

“A distraction.  I’ll eliminate them quickly.”

“No…”

“We can defeat Darkseid together, Kal-El.  But not like this, wasting precious energies on his fodder.  We must combine and strike.  All of us.”

“All?”

Henshaw saw the Man of Steel shake his head again as he shifted his weary gaze to where the other pointed.  The Cyborg saw the girl then- the Supergirl.  She was there too then.  Henshaw glanced about the field looking for Steel and the kid.

“Matrix?” Superman said, his voice uncertain.  Hank Henshaw did not think so.  The girl was blasting away with her own version of Heat Vision, bathing Darkseid and some other brute in the glow of solar radiation, smiling as they burned.  That was not the Supergirl that Henshaw recalled.

“No,” the other said, his own vision flashing a squad of Para Demons from the sky as they approached too close.  “She is someone else.  Something more.  Between the three of us, we can stop Darkseid.  The Eradicator said that we two might rival his power.  With her help, we could end this, once and for all.”

“I won’t kill,” the Superman said, and Henshaw had to sneer in disgust.  What did it take to get him off his moral high horse?  “Darkseid’s armies are simply misguided zealots following his word.  It’s all they know.  They deserve a chance…”

“So did the Daxamites,” the other said with just a bit of heat in his voice.

Damn, they would lose while debating the deal to death.  Henshaw knew what he had to do.  He had nothing to lose, after all.  He was already the villain, blamed for Coast City.  What was a few more deaths compared to that?


He remembered that day at the Crystal Mountain Reserve.  Zor-El and his wife- what was her name- had brought little Kara.  His father and mother had been there, and Kara had spent the day morphing her image in the sheer, crystalline walls, displaying what she might be one day…

He remembered her laugh.

He remembered the strange and archaic rocket crashing to Earth, the teen-ager that sprang from the ship dressed in her blue skirt and red cape, calling him cousin…

He remembered the charred body begging him for help as the three Kryptonian villains escaped from the Phantom Zone laid waste to her world…

He remembered cradling her limp and battered body in his arms after she had given her life to save the multi-verse from the Anti-Monitor…

Holding her hand as she died in the hospital on Krypton…

The Superman pressed his fists to his temples and screamed.  Too many memories making his mind swirl.  Conflicting memories that just would not fall into place.  He looked up, watching, trying to sort through it all.

She was flying a wide, figure eight, making strafing runs and blasting the dais with her Heat Vision.  Superman saw Darkseid writhe with every pass, and though he staggered, the other man that just had to be Orion seemed to battle on through the heat and the pain.  She did not care.  Matrix would have.

His cousin would have cared.  But it was her.  It had to be.

“We must join her, Kal-El.  Together we can…”

And the world flashed red.


Hank Henshaw knew that he had to be careful.  If he used too much power and burned the Lane woman, Superman would forget everything and come after him with a passion.  So he actually had to consider and moderate his assault just enough to take down the army, stun them at least without killing everyone on the plaza.

Not that he cared of course, but they needed Blue to do his job without the distractions.  And Lane fried to a crisp would definitely distract him.  Henshaw considered and collated, sorting the information that his internal computers provided as he scanned the ground for Lane.

He found her, standing over Olsen and wearing some shield on her arm.  It was golden, and Henshaw recognized it.  All the better.

He rediverted power then, just a bit more than necessary.  She would survive.


Darkseid staggered as the heat seemed to suddenly treble.  The world seemed to wash red, his vision sparkling as he squinted, blinking into the glow.  And Orion hit him again, laughing.

It was absurd.

He felt blood.  Impossible!

He felt the Hunter’s hands at his throat and he swung back wildly, his rocky fist slamming against the jaw of his son.  He felt the boy’s grip loosen a bit as he swung again, smashing fist to nose and finally the stranglehold was broken.  He staggered back, blinking to clear his eyes, feeling the sizzling burn of the heat that had flashed over them both.  He began to see shadowy images again as Orion renewed his attack once more.

He had had enough.

MORI…

He saw Orion stagger back as the word went forth, but oddly the whelp did not fall.  Still, he was weakened, but his stark blues eyes continued to burn with madness and hatred.

“Flesh of the flesh, Dark One!” Orion snarled, stepping forward and landing a thunderous blow.  Darkseid rocked back, actually stunned and confused.  “Your ill-gained magicks have no effect on your one, true heir.”

“You are no flesh of mine, boy,” Darkseid growled, wiping blood from his lip.  “My son is dead.  Long dead, and I made certain that you would not be here to thwart me.  You are contradiction, and less.  You are nothing but a shade.”

“If shade I am, then it is fitting,” Orion said as he held out his hand, arm outstretched.  Darkseid saw the fallen Astro Force mechanism rise up and arch towards the balcony.  And as it landed in ‘Orion’s’ hand, he knew the truth.

“Fitting that the shadow obfuscate the darkness…”

“In your dreams, mockery of Desaad!”  Darkseid smiled as his eyes flashed red, releasing the Omega Effect.  He knew that like the creature, which Desaad had grown in his foul chambers and corrupted to the dark side, this thing was no more the true Hunter, but a clone.  Not true life as such, and thus the Anti-Life had little effect.  The Omega Effect however never failed; such was its purpose.  Darkseid smiled as the creature writhed in the blight of the beam, the grown cells of the creation burning away with that, which was Darkseid’s true, best legacy.  The air seemed to waver, to glow, and when the radiance at last began to recede, the Astro Force clattered to the stone unclaimed.

“Thus fall all pretenders who would seek to thwart the will of Darksaaaaiiiiieeee!”

At first he thought that a new Fire Pit had opened to swallow all of Thymscira.  It had been long since he had experienced that pain, not since he had met his true son in the flames as prophecy had claimed.  Slowly however he realized that there was no fire; just blazing, intense heat.  He could feel the very stone melting beneath him.  What little remained of his raiment and armor were vaporized instantly, and he could feel his rock-like flesh flaking away under the continuous assault.  He knew what- who it was.

There were four of them now, circling, and blasting away with their combined Heat Visions.  Superman and Mon-El, the girl, and one other, the half-man that had fallen from Infinity.  Combined they were strong, even he would admit.  Their assault was boggling, weakening him.  But he was Darkseid.  He would not be beaten.


Clark had watched in horror as the Cyborg had swept the field with his version of Heat Vision.  He had heard the screams as Darkseid’s armies fell, the Para Demons falling right out of the sky, the warriors boiling in their heavy armor, the Dog Soldiers dropping amidst the sorrowful whimpering of their mounts.  Even the Amazons fell under the assault, staggering and dropping to their knees in the sudden surge of heat.  There were those that survived of course, and remarkably with a quick scan of his own vision and hearing he could ‘see’ that few had died immediately.  Henshaw had held back, just enough.

Enough to free Clark and the others to act.  Together then they soared towards Darkseid even as the mad god used his Omega Effect to kill his son.  And that just made it all the worse.  Another needless death on Darkseid’s tally.  Another reason that he had to be stopped.  As if there was not enough already.

“Focus, Kal-El!”

Superman blinked to hear Mon-El’s shouts.  He was starting to weaken, they all were and he could hear it in Lar Gand’s voice.  Even here beneath the pure light of Thymscira’s sun, they were not without limits.  Unlike Darkseid it would appear.

The dark god struggled to rise under their fierce onslaught.  His stone-like skin sizzled and smoldered, cracking as he tried to stand.  He was obviously hurting and weak, but somehow he continued to rise.

“Murderer!” Mon-El shouted, swooping up and somehow finding the power to double his attack.  “How many more have to die before you fall?”

“You killed me!” the Supergirl snarled, her lips pulled back in a rictus of hatred.  “How many times?  How many more?”

Kal-El felt the heat even as he strained to increase his own assault.  The world was glowing white hot about them.  His costume and hair was sparking, vanishing in puffs of smoke as the very oxygen was seared away.  The dais was starting to sag as Darkseid finally gained his feet, wincing in the furnace.

Superman saw him glance back at the woman that stood behind.  Hippolyta, at least in form, now naked and hairless as the fires of the four had stripped her bare.  Her skin sparkled in the unending wave of heat.  She was stark white now, shining alabaster save for her dark, soulless eyes that seemed fixated on Darkseid.  Otherwise unaffected, she simply stared at him as he glanced her way.

“Enough…”

Clark heard the word and knew then that even their best had not been enough.  He saw Henshaw drop from the sky suddenly, his cybernetic framework little more than slag from the intense heat.  There was a violet blur- even to him- as Mon-El shot downward.

The blow echoed out across the plaza, the sheer waves of force sending he and Kara spiraling away.  He heard the faint screams of those lesser beings as the buildings churned and cracked, swaying as though in the grips of an earthquake.  Somewhere in the distance there was an explosion and more screams, and suddenly Mon-El shot away again, smashing into the huge obsidian monolith that was tribute to the dark god.

Mon-El smashed through the huge statue without pause, his momentum barely diminished by a fraction.  Clark watched as his limp form arched out and away, flying higher with the distance even as the mighty monolith started to crumble and collapse.  He heard more feeble cries as great chucks of jet black stone toppled to the plaza’s floor, crushing those poor souls instantly, already too injured and in agony to scramble for escape.  He wanted to fly to their aid, to Mon-El’s aid as he vanished with distance beyond the horizon, but all he could do was watch in awe and horror, scanning the devastation…

He saw Lois huddled over Jimmy Olsen, doing her best to deflect what stones she could with her golden shield.  She was far enough away that she would be safe, for a time.  He saw the other two as well; the pretty boy trying to protect the beautiful girl that was still thankfully asleep.  Serifan and Dreamer, he recalled them from another time.  Why were they even there-

He heard Kara’s scream as it choked in her throat.

Kal-El spun about and saw his cousin in the grip of Darkseid, dangling at the end of his outstretched arm.  She was kicking and struggling, blasting him with her Heat Vision, but he ignored it.  He had survived the combined effort of four of them.  She was as nothing to him alone.

“Let her go!” Superman shouted, flying closer as Darkseid glanced up.  Kal-El could see the pain and exhaustion in his eyes.  He was close to defeat, but they had been found wanting.  Had it been him?  Had he held back?

“This ends, Kryptonian.”  Darkseid seemed to ignore the girl in his grip as he gazed out at the plaza.  There were some still living, Clark knew.  He could hear them.  What…

MORI!

Pain

Clark felt the wave of pain as it washed over him.  At Darkseid’s word the very air seemed to shimmer and flow, washing out across the plaza like a wave.  Kal-El winced, his head throbbing as he gasped for air and clutched at his chest.  He started to fall…


Archon Phillipus was climbing the steps again.

Her breath was ragged and she was sweating still from the intense heat that the aliens had employed, feeling the burn yet even through her armor.  She would not be defeated though.  She would not falter from her duty.  She knew what had to be done.

“Open the doors,” Kanto had said just before he vanished in a blaze of fire.  She had not had to ask what he had meant.  Somehow the key to Darkseid’s victory lay at the top of the stairs, beyond the forbidden portal.

She had turned without question, running through the plaza as it warped and melted, as the monuments had started to come down about her.  She would not falter.  She would remain true to her lord and help him however she might.  If that meant flinging aside the very doors that held Chaos in check, she would.

She had almost made it.

She saw the twin Guardians stagger and fall even as she stepped upon the landing before the huge, banded doors.  She too heard the word then, the Will and the Way washing through her very being, and Archon Phillipus dropped to her knees and died.


Lois Lane saw Jimmy’s body spasm and jerk.  Blood suddenly gushed from his nose as he gagged and coughed, then lay still.

“Jimmy?”

Something churned within her stomach, burning and kicking.  Lois gasped as her eyes went wide and she fell to her knees, doubled over and vomiting blood of her own.

She fell lifeless at Jimmy Olsen’s side…


In the harbor the Baron Vunderbarr screamed as the Leviathan reared and yowled.  Hundreds died as the great beast of the deep thrashed and floundered, finally splashing back into the bay only to float silently in the waves.

Vermin Vunderbarr stared silently skyward through the tiny crystal monocle imbedded into his eye…


Serifan felt the Source leave as it deserted him.  He felt empty and hollow suddenly as he heaved, his final breath ragged as he fell over the body of the Beautiful Dreamer.  He wondered briefly just how it had come to this, glancing up to see the Black Racer speeding his way.

It was not to be.

The Racer was gone, he knew, as was he, shortly.  He pulled his wide-brimmed hat from his head as he gasped that final breath, pulling a capsule from the band.

He broke it, watching as ecstasy washed over his charge, before the light finally faded away…


Zauriel screamed as his sword fell from suddenly limp fingers.  He felt his wings burn away, stripped in the radiance as he started to fall, again.

He was staring skyward as he slammed to earth, his eyes wavering as he focused on the LIGHT far overhead.  Just a spark, shining down and enveloping him.

“Father…” he whispered, and he smiled.


Clark Kent clutched at his chest as the wave of death washed over him.  He could feel his heart slamming, his pulse racing as he gasped for air against the sudden, terrible pain.  His blood boiled, veins popping forth as his head throbbed with the WORD.  He faltered, starting to fall.

“Mother…” he said and felt the radiance and glory of the sun as it beamed down.  He felt the warmth of the Earth enveloping him, nurturing him.  Keeping him whole.

He felt that, which had made him what he was, what he is and would be.

And more…

Clark stared, focusing on Darkseid as he lowered Kara’s limp form, letting her finally fall to the melted stone at his feet.  He was heaving with effort, weak, but then so was the Superman.

They were the last.  Clark could not hear another heart, another ragged breath on the whole of the island, as far as he could see.  Darkseid had killed them all.  All but him.

“Lois…” he whispered, and his eyes finally saw his wife sprawled over the bloody form of Jimmy Olsen.  Both were as dead as everyone else on Thymscira save for him…

And Darkseid…

“As always, Kryptonian,” the dark god said as he stared down at the limp body of Kara Zor-El.  “In the absence of progeny, you remain my greatest obstacle, even here.”

Superman did not care.  He did not want to hear it.  Mon-El had been right, and it was because of him that they had failed… lost.

He shot forward, a scream ripping from his throat as Darkseid simply looked up and smiled…

MORI…

Superman saw the dark god’s eyes go wide just before he slammed into the Lord of Apokolips.  Together they smashed into the melted and ancient stone of the balcony, the impact of his rage filled plummet driving both to the level below and shattering all that remained of the dais.  Great white stone rained down as both smashed into the plaza below.

Dust and fine stone filtered up, billowing in the wake of impact.  Huge blocks and chunks dropped about him as the Man of Steel tried to rise, and continue the assault.  He felt Darkseid’s fist slam across his face in the confusion, forcing him back to his knees.  Darkseid rose over him, his eyes blazing red in the cloud of debris.

“You… die… Kryptonian…

“Mori!”

Darkseid blinked.

“MORI!”

Superman saw the dark god’s eyes go wide as he looked back, up and around.  Darkseid’s mouth dropped open as Kal-El’s sight fell on the same sight that had brought Darkseid to an abrupt halt.

Hippolyta was shaking, her form little more than a shining, skeletal frame now.  There was an arm jutting through her ribcage, slim and chalky white, and in its fist was a sparkling shard of amber.  Her dark eyes fluttered as the hand poking from her chest twisted and turned and started to recede.  There was a sucking sound as Hippolyta stumbled away to the side to reveal the slim pale girl with the wild black hair.

Death smiled…

“You’re done,” she said, glancing almost lovingly at the bauble she held in hand.  The tiny shard of Anti-Life, which Darkseid had taken from Aquaman- the Swimmer- sparkled in flashes of yellow and gold.  “You don’t belong here,” she said to the dark lord, then turned her attention to the skeletal woman, another version of herself.  “And you…”

Death curled her small hand into a petite fist as she reared back, and suddenly swung forward as Hippolyta shook her head.  The other glanced up as the tiny fist connected with a crack of thunder and a slamming force that literally knocked Hippolyta off of her feet, flinging her back-

“Get outta my world, BITCH!”

Hippolyta landed on the melted stone of the balcony with a wet thud.  Her form immediately started to shimmer and as all watched they saw a darkly cloaked form seep from the alabaster body of the once queen.  Where there had been one, there now was two, and Hippolyta mercifully slumped into unconsciousness even as color started to return to her pale skin, and meat swelled on her gaunt frame.

The thickly robed woman simply stood, her silvery blue-skinned hands disappearing into the folds of her sleeves after touching a cautious finger to her lip.  Superman saw a faint glow emanating from the dark shadows of her hood before Darkseid stepped forward.

“No!” he shouted, sounding almost panicked.  “We were so close.  Help me now!  Again!  We can still claim victory.  We’re stronger than they are…”

The hooded woman turned an icy gaze on the lord of Apokolips and the Man of Steel saw fear cross the dark god’s features.  He stopped abruptly, both movement and talking as the woman- that OTHER Death from another universe turned away.

And vanished…

“Nnnnoooooo!”

Darkseid seethed, stepping forward, staggering through the spot that the other Death had just vacated.  The Superman thought that he seemed almost lost.

“It’s over,” Superman said, stepping up as Darkseid stared down at the unconscious form of Hippolyta.  “Surrender now, Darkseid.  Help us restore reality to what it was.”

“Over?” Darkseid looked up from beneath the shadows of his overhanging brow.  Superman saw his eyes crackling with anger, a sullen red.  “It will never be over until I have destroyed you for this!”

Darkseid’s eyes flashed scarlet, and even before the Man of Steel could hope to move twin beams of red seared into his chest.  He screamed, staggering backwards as Darkseid’s assault drove home.  His Omega Effect was always a mystery; sometimes slaying, sometimes banishing.  It was an incredible effect that the dark lord could turn at his whim.  Just what it did to the Superman then, he had no idea however.  It hurt, drove him to a knee, but when the radiance faded Kal-El was surprised to still be alive.  So too it seemed was Darkseid.

“Impossible…” he whispered, and both turned to the silver-chimed laughter of the slim girl called Death.

“I told you,” she said, almost mockingly, “you’re done.  Your ace deserted you, Darkseid.  Your powers won’t affect him anymore…” Darkseid’s eyes flashed again, enveloping the girl in a red glare that just as quickly faded.

“Or me, for that matter.  You’re from elsewhere.  What makes you bad in your universe isn’t squat here.  Reality hates contradiction.”

“No!”  Darkseid said, and Clark could hear the worry in his voice, a timbre, which he had never heard before.  Death said that he was from elsewhere- not the true Lord of Apokolips then.  Maybe that was why.  Superman watched as the Great and Powerful Darkseid backed away.

“I can still win.  I can plan… Regroup… I can return!  This universe is still in my control!”

“No,” Death shook her head with a smirk.  “Without HER, the tenuous hold you had is crumbling.  The Rim Worlds are revolting even now, led by the Tamaranian Queen just learned that her daughters are dead.  Without the Daxamites and Kryptonians, your armies aren’t enough, and War World is spoken for…”

But the dark lord was running already, not even listening to the girl.  Superman lunged forward to stop him as he leapt from the dais, but felt a soft and firm hand on his arm.  He turned to Death.

“I can stop him,” he offered, but the girl shook her head.

“It’s covered…”


Darkseid ran.

No matter what the slim wisp of a girl had said, he could find victory from this.  He could rebuild.  He had his armies, and some of his Elite had to yet breathe.  He would gather his forces and return, and they would all pay.  He would have his revenge.  He…

He stopped short, staring up the grand stairs at the figure descending to meet him.  His eyes grew wide, and for the second time in his long life, and in almost as many minutes, a shiver raced down his spine.  He could see the great doors ripped asunder far at the top; the magicks that he and Zatanna had set, let alone the more mundane locks and foils apparently useless to HIS majesty.  And HE was battered and charred, older looking with a pale gray hue to his cracked and chiseled skin.  His eyes were dark and accusing as he glared at the usurper, HIS other.

“This?” the TRUE Darkseid said as he paused on the stairs, looking down at the other.  “This is the… discrepancy?  A pale shade from a faded world?  A false, lost god with delusions of grandeur.”  The true Darkseid poised, linking his arms behind his back and peering at the remains of the dais.  It seemed that he almost smiled before returning his attention to the pretender.

“You distract me,” Darkseid said, letting a glow enter his eyes.  “Worse, you annoy me…”

“No!  Wait!” the other Darkseid said as he too brought the power to bear.  “Together we can win!  We can…” He released the Omega Effect…

“Die!”

The shadow of Darkseid stared as his Omega Effect simply splashed off of the other’s chest without effect.  His eyes went wide, darting about as he licked his dry, stony lips, seeking escape.  True Darkseid brushed a bit of char from his breast.

“Begone…”

The true Darkseid’s eyes flashed as his own Omega Effect lanced out and enveloped the other with his image.  False Darkseid screamed as his body melted, fading as though just a ghost, a shadow lost to the rising sun.  The echoes of his demise continued for some time…


“Justice is served, hunh?”

Clark turned and saw that Death had moved up at his side.  She was smiling, still holding the golden shard in one hand, but she also held another jewel in the other.  He did not recognize the strange, crystalline sculpture, but at that point, he did not really care either.  He turned his gaze to the plaza.

He saw Lois and Jimmy lying together in the mass of murder that Darkseid had invoked with his Anti-Life Equation.  They were just two among the hundreds that lay dead on the plaza, and even more on the rest of the island of Thymscira.  Thousands…  He wondered about Diana-

“So, what now?” he said, starting slightly as he saw movement on the plaza.  He was about to rush down, but saw the violet streak that was Mon-El as he soared in and landed at the side of the Beautiful Dreamer.  She had survived, somehow.

“Now?” Death answered, stepping up beside him.  “We move on…”


There were four of them on all the island that had survived.  Darkseid had vanished of course, when his attention had been diverted, so that left the others.

Death stood to one side holding the shard of Anti-Life that seemed to pulse in her fist, as well as the other sculpted jewel that seemed just as alive with energy.

Mon-El stood to his right, dressed in the tattered clothes of the dead, as was the Kryptonian, his own uniform long burned away.

To his left was the New God of the Forever People; the Beautiful Dreamer.  She had survived, and seemed none the worse for wear save that she was barely awake.  Still, her huge blue eyes met his and he felt an incredible calm wash over him.  She smiled… dreamily… and Kal could not help but smile back.

“Darkseid…” Death started, “the false Darkseid corrupted our universe in a way that he thought would be irrevocable.  It was too much for him though, in the end, even with all the power that he stole.  He was not ‘GOD”, despite his claims.  He just didn’t have the ability to encompass everything.  So few of us do.  There were just too many variables to consider.  Too many folk- like you- that were too strong of will.  He was doomed to failure, just like all the others.”

“Others?” Superman asked, but Death waved him away.  She held up the two jewels, cupping them in the palms of her hands.

“You three hold the key to setting things straight,” she continued, watching as the tiny shard of Anti-Life flashed, sparking off the other jewel- the Yughagi Mancur; the Star of Creation.  She glanced at the Man of Steel.

“You’re the hope and spirit of course.  As always, and, you’re whole now that little bit of time you lost so long ago returned.”  She turned to Mon-El.

“You’re the strength and determination.  You’re that step over the line that Blue isn’t willing to take.” She shrugged.  “Which is why you’ll always be just short.  Sorry.

“Dreamer here,” she said smiling to the half-asleep girl, “she’s the love.  More importantly, between you all, you all have the way of things.  You each have a bit of the whole memory.  Together you can bring us back on track; Superman with his returned memories of things that weren’t meant to be, Lar Gand with his thousand years outside, and all the rest, and Dreamer to fill in the rough spots.  I have a bit of involvement too,” she said, holding up the two jewels, “but you three are the focus.”

“This is…” Mon-El started to say, but Clark put his hand on his friend’s arm.

“What do we have to do?” Superman asked, and Death smiled a final time.

“Just forget, Kal,” she said, holding the twin jewels up before her face, bathing in the static glow.  “Forget, and remember…”

Death puckered her lips and blew her breath over the sparkling jewels cupped in her hands…

And the world fell away…


To be continued in...

AFTERMATH and ALL of JLU: 2001!


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